


Homeward Bound Part Two: Grace and Redemption

by ISeeFire



Series: Homeward Bound [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Drama, F/M, Family, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Friendship, Gen, Genderbending, Genderswap, Happy Ending, Mostly Movie Based But Uses Book Canon When It Suits Me, Planned Series Even After Two Main Parts Are Done (I have MANY more story ideas for them!), Rule 63, Slow Romance, Thilbo, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 158,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2329676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ISeeFire/pseuds/ISeeFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilba Baggins has returned to the Shire to find it very different from the one she left...or perhaps it is she who is different. She is a warrior returned from the battlefield to a place where the greatest threat will be not having enough scones for tea She doesn't know how she will fit back in after all she's gone through but she is willing to try. </p><p>She is content with the thought of peace. The notion of living without fear of imminent death, or of something trying to eat her, is a good one.  </p><p>Unfortunately for Bilba, however, there is a ring whispering in her pocket, a force rising from the darkness and an evil burning in scarlet flame. </p><p>And they have no intention of allowing her rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Bilba blinked, and found herself standing on the path outside Bag End._

_Before her the road unspooled, running lazily down the hill and through the hedge. Beyond that she knew lay Bree, Rivendell, the Misty Mountains and, further still, Erebor._

_Overhead the sky was crystal clear, marred only by a small handful of clouds grudgingly giving way to the coming of spring. The sun shone down merrily and a warm breeze rushed amongst the grass and flowers lining the sides of the path._

_A clatter of pots and pans rang out from Bag End and she frowned in confusion._

_Bag End should be empty. Alone and quiet, awaiting the return of its owners who constantly left it, never appreciating what they had until it was far, far behind them._

_The door was closed but the window near the kitchen was open and it was from there the noises issued._

_She hesitated and moved closer, stretching out a hand to open the gate._

_A familiar laugh echoed from the open window and Bilba gasped. Her stomach clenched so hard it was as though she'd been physically punched._

_She knew that laugh, though she had not heard it in decades._

_Another voice sounded, responding, and this one she also knew._ _A young, childish voice shrieked suddenly, the noise quickly fading to giggles and her knees gave way, sending her crashing to the ground. Tears burned at the corner of her eyes as a wound she'd counted healed reopened._

_"This isn't possible," She whispered. "What's going?"_

_"You are dying," a voice said behind her._

_Bilba jerked and turned, falling as she did until she was seated against the gate._

_The woman who stood before her was somehow both utterly familiar and a complete stranger at the same time._

_She was tall and ethereal with pale green tinged skin and hair the color of the sun. She wore a shimmering gown and was adorned with flowers of all shapes and colors._

_Bilba swallowed, clasping her hands in front of her. "Who are you?"_

_The woman stepped forward, her bare feet barely seeming to touch the ground, and knelt in front of her._

_"I think you know. We've spoken before many times, though you do not remember all of them."_

_Bilba stared at her and then her eyes widened. Pushing a hand against the dirt she scrambled up and managed to somehow get herself into a kneeling position._

_"My Lady Yavanna."_

_Yavanna laughed, the sound reminding Bilba of water rushing over rocks, and lightly touched her shoulders. "Rise, Bilba. There will be no bowing among friends I think."_

_Bilba sat up, her hands wrapped around her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak, when it suddenly registered that her stomach was perfectly flat. Fear spiked through her but Yavanna was already reaching out to lay a hand on her arm._

_"Do not fear. Your children are safe. They are being born even now."_

_Bilba frowned, her mind struggling to remember. "I don't understand."_

_Yavanna studied her. "Do you not?"_

_Bilba shook her head. She went back in her mind, tracing her steps. The journey home had been long and tedious. They had done their best to avoid the worst of winter but her pregnancy symptoms had returned with a vengeance, often leaving her unable to eat for long stretches without throwing it up. Exhaustion, a backache that had grown worse week by week and other problems had plagued her,and slowed them. Multiple times they'd been forced to set up camp for days and even weeks at a time until the weather cleared enough to let them go or until her symptoms lessened to the point she could move again. Beorn, Valar bless him, had announced he would accompany them all the way to Rivendell. His presence meant she could stretch out on his back as opposed to trying to walk or sit astride a pony._ _Even with that small mercy, however, it had been a nightmare. She'd grown enormous, far bigger than anything she could possibly have imagined. By the time they'd arrived at Rivendell she'd been crying almost constantly in misery. There was no question of trying to reach the Shire. The elves had earned her eternal devotion by immediately setting up a room for her and providing her with nearly round the clock care and aid._

_"Elrond," She whispered, his words running through her mind. "He was worried."_

_"You are but a small Hobbit," Yavanna said, "and your children were half dwarven."_

_And there were two of them. Elrond hadn't believed she could give birth to them naturally. He'd sent for aid, to Lothlorien and the Lady who dwelt there._

_"It wasn't fast enough," Bilba said, her memory returning. "I went into labor. I couldn't deliver them."_

_"Forcing the elves to remove them another way," Yavanna said, "A most dangerous procedure."_

_"And apparently one that isn't going all that well." Bilba turned her attention behind her, hearing again the voices and laughter. "Inside Bag End, is that really--"_

_"It is," Yavanna answered, "And you may go into them if you wish."_

_Bilba's eyes narrowed, hearing the warning in the Valar's voice. "And if I do?"_

_"You will not be allowed to return."_

_"I don't understand," Bilba said. "How is it that I know you? How are we friends? Why am I even here?"_

_She thought, as she said it, she did have a small piece of the puzzle. There had been a woman's voice speaking in her head a few times, strongest when she had stood over Thorin's unconscious body and faced Azog. The voice had commanded then, ordering her to summon her friends, but it wasn't the first time she'd heard it, or the last._

_"The Rangers," she said suddenly. "When I was younger and trying to find my way home." She looked up at the Valar, her eyes wide. "I heard a voice inside my head, guiding me, telling me where to go. I thought I was going mad, or perhaps it was somehow my mother trying to guide me, but it wasn't was it? It was you."_

_Yavanna didn't answer. Instead she shifted, her head tilted to one side as though listening to a voice of her own. A moment later she sighed and focused back on Bilba. "There is much I cannot yet explain, Bilba, and I'm afraid our time here grows short. I have come to offer you a choice."_

_"What choice?" Bilba asked in confusion._

_"The path that lays before you is dark," Yavanna said, her voice grave. "Darker than anything you have yet faced. If you walk down it you will be changed, forever."_

_"I don't understand," Bilba repeated. "I'm just going home. I just want to raise my children in peace."_

_The look on Yavanna's face was compassionate. "Peace is something you may yet achieve. It is a long way off, however, and you will suffer much in the seeking."_

_Bilba swallowed. Behind her she suddenly heard new voices speaking from within Bag End. They were familiar but so quiet and muffled she could not place who they were._

_"I have asked my Father for permission to take this path from you," Yavanna stated, catching her attention once more, 'And he has granted it. If you wish it, you may choose to die now and lay aside your fate."_

_Bilba studied her feet. "What about my sons?"_

_"They will survive without you." There was a sadness in Yavanna's voice as she spoke, a resignation as though she already knew the answer to the question she hadn't yet asked. "What is your choice?"_

_Bilba cast a longing look over her shoulder toward Bag End. Her heart cried out to her to run to the door, throw it open and rush inside. "You tell me there is no peace in my future," Bilba said, her head still turned away. She swallowed and shut her eyes as a wave of pain and grief rushed through her. She swallowed and turned to face Yavanna, lifting her head as she did. "How could I leave my children to face such a world alone?"_

_The voices from Bag End stopped._

_As Bilba watched, the world around her grew dim and faded. A few moments later she found herself standing in a white void._

_Yavanna stepped forward and knelt, taking Bilba's hand in her own. Her eyes, Bilba noted, held a fierce pride...and also a deep grief._

_"I confess," Yavanna said, her voice saddened, "I fear how this journey will change you."_

_Bilba forced a smile. "I will do my best to remain the same, my Lady."_

_Yavanna smiled. "I am sure you will."  She lifted a hand and laid it gently on the top of Bilba's head. "You will not remember this when you awaken but you will feel it in your heart. I will be watching over you, Bilba, as much as I am able, until this road is done."_

_"You have watched over me so much already," BIlba said, "And I have done nothing to deserve it. Thank you."_

_With that she was gone, leaving Yavanna standing alone in the void._

_"Travel well, my child," she whispered after the small Hobbit. "Until we meet again."_

_And then she was gone and, for the briefest of instances, the world stood silent, hushed as though a great multitude had drawn in its breath and held it._

_Waiting._

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Bilba ducked Kili's swing with ease and retaliated with one of her own. He darted back trying to evade only to lose his footing for a brief second, just long enough for Bilba to make it inside his defenses. He threw an arm up in reflex and her practice sword made a satisfying clunk as the lightweight wood connected with his forearm.

Bilba danced back and mock saluted him with the weapon, grinning in triumph. “You just lost your arm.”

“Of course I just lost my arm,” Kili groused, rubbing his bicep in irritation. “I blocked a sword with it.”

“Don’t worry, brother," Fili called out from where he lounged at the edge of the clearing, "I’ll avenge you.”

“Don’t bother,” Kili shot back. “I’d rather no one find out I was killed by a Hobbit.”

He laughed as he said it and dodged as Bilba half-heartedly swung at him in revenge. He threw himself to the ground, recovered his own sword and sprang to his feet. “Alright, let’s try this again shall we?”

A shrill cry split the air and Bilba shifted into a relaxed stance. “Sorry, I’ll have to leave the rematch to my second.”

Kili’s eyes narrowed. “Your what?”

She smiled innocently and spun, heading to where Fili sat. As she neared she flipped the sword around so she could hold the hilt out toward him. “Fili?” she called; her voice deliberately sweet. “Would you mind trouncing your brother for me?”

Fili grinned broadly and pushed to his feet to take the wooden blade. “It’d be my pleasure,” he said cheerfully. He headed toward his brother, whistling and idly spinning the lightweight weapon in one hand as he did.

Bilba laughed and turned her attention to the large blanket spread out beside the tree.

On it lay her sons, both swaddled securely in blankets and warm clothing to ward against the cool early spring air.

Having been born the previous August, the boys were seven months old but had the appearance and behaviors of babies barely two months.

It would appear dwarven blood was just as stubborn as the people who carried it and the babies were aging according to that race’s standards.

It meant she would most likely be dead before they reached maturity but she couldn't begrudge her sons a long lifespan.

She picked up Ashrin, her youngest by seconds, and cradled him. He quieted quickly, his tiny weight barely registering in her arms. Frerin blinked at her calmly from his spot on the blanket before being distracted by a butterfly flitting over his head, giggling and waving chubby hands at it. Bilba leaned back against the tree to watch Fili and Kili try to kill one another. They were still an hour or more from the Shire, well into the woods and far from any who would bother them. The area was lush with thick emerald grass and dotted with flowers. Butterflies and bees flitted about, easily evading the two rampaging dwarves, and birdsong called out from the trees circling the area.

Directly overhead an early morning sun shone down with just enough heat to counter the breeze rushing through.

After the dangers of the quest and the utter misery of the journey home it was everything she could have wanted.

It was also a nice respite from what she imagined would be waiting for her once she got home. Her stomach clenched at the thought and she tightened her grip on Ashrin. It had been almost exactly two years since she’d last seen Bag End and much had changed.

She had changed. The naïve 30-year-old who’d run out her door bore little resemblance to the 32-year-old who was returning.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected when she left but, looking at it now, she couldn’t imagine her homecoming being anything short of a nightmare. The Shire prided itself on conformity. Looking at it now she could see her carefully crafted reputation, which had been so important to her at one time, hadn't been founded on her _doing_ anything. The Baggins name hadn't been respected because they had been particularly intelligent or gifted in some area or because they'd helped the poor or saved small animals.

It had been respected because they _conformed_.

No one in Hobbiton did anything unexpected. The Tooks, who were thought of as odd and lived on the edges of the Shire in their own land, were the closest thing to unusual and even they were conformists compared to the things her mother had done. The things she'd done.

Her mother had been labeled mad and a Disturber of the Peace.

The thought Bilba could just waltz back in now, after two years, with no consequence was ludicrous.

It was the belief of an immature child.

She'd behaved less like a hobbit than the most outlandish of the Tooks.

She'd outdone her own _mother_.

She'd run off without so much as a by-your-leave, vanished for two years with a group of males she'd barely known a day and now would be returning with two babies in tow and no father in sight.

She grimaced, her mood souring further at the thought of _him_. In her arms, Ashrin was gnawing happily on a corner of his blanket and she studied him with a sense of dread. It would have been easier if they'd looked more like hobbits or simply less like their father. She could have passed them off as someone else's children. He wouldn't know. He had no idea how long her pregnancy lasted and the babies looked much younger than they were. She could have simply claimed she met someone on the way home or even after she returned home.

Ashrin and Frerin, however, while smaller and slimmer than dwarven babies were still larger and bigger boned than hobbit ones. They sported only a slim amount of hair on their feet and it would be years before she would know if they would grow beards.

The tiny wisps of hair on their heads were coal black, though, and both sported intense, ice blue eyes. Their father's eyes, along with his ears, nose and hints of his jawline. 

Her boys were undeniably the sons of Thorin Oakenshield. No one who knew him would miss it. She saw the truth in Fili and Kili’s eyes, felt it in her own heart. If word ever got back to him, if he ever saw them...her gut twisted inside her and she shivered as a feeling of intense cold rushed over her.

She’d been afraid when she was pregnant.

She was terrified now.

He wouldn’t have been able to take them from her before, not while she still carried them. Now he could rip them out of her arms and there was nothing she could do to stop him. He could take them back to Erebor and lock them behind a wall of rock and armored soldiers and she would never see them again.

The hobbits wouldn’t help her, couldn’t even if any of them wanted to. Hobbits weren’t warriors; they were gardeners and shopkeepers, merchants and farmers.

A shout of surprise from Kili caught her attention and she looked up just in time to see him hit the ground on his back. Fili’s sword was at his throat a second later. He shot her a triumphant look and struck a conquering hero pose.

Bilba forced a laughed and rolled her eyes, her mood lightening slightly. There was no use worrying about every possible thing, she scolded herself. Thorin had an entire kingdom to rebuild and rule. The last thing he’d worry about was her. He was probably so swamped with running his kingdom that he hadn’t given her a second thought.

As for her return to the Shire, well, she'd deal with it. It probably wouldn't be as bad as she thought. No doubt she was simply making it worse in her own imagination.

Maybe if she told herself that a thousand more times she’d finally believe it.

Fili grabbed his brother’s hand and hauled him to his feet before they both headed over.

Bilba grinned as they sat down. Kili sat on one side while Fili scooped up Frerin and sat on her other side. Frerin immediately started gurgling happily, one hand reaching up to tug on Fili’s hair. He didn’t seem to notice. Fili, as it turned out, had helped out a lot with Kili when he was little and settled back into it now as though he’d never stopped. Frerin, for whatever reason, had taken to him immediately. He absolutely adored Fili, often refusing to sleep unless Fili was holding him.

Bilba was eternally grateful for both of them. She'd helped out little with her brother and, though the elves had tried to help her as much as possible, she was utterly lost with her sons most of the time. It had been Fili, and Kili as best he could, who'd stepped up to help her with the boys when she felt like she was barely treading water.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing she could ever say or do that would even come close to repaying them. 

“So,” Kili said, his mood unhampered by his double loss, “ready to head out?”

No, Bilba thought instantly. Part of her just wanted to stay in that clearing forever.

The other part knew she couldn’t.

She nodded. "No time like the present."

 

***

 

Riding into the Shire an hour and a half later was nothing like when she’d ridden in from Bree two years earlier.

To think she’d believed _that_  was an adventure.

She wished dearly she could go back in time somehow and slap herself silly.

They passed a few hobbits on the main road, none of them anyone she knew. A few gave her vaguely curious looks or nodded in greeting but, other than that, paid her no further notice. Living on the outskirts they were used to seeing travelers, particularly dwarves on their way to or from the Blue Mountains. Seeing a hobbit among them was probably a bit unusual but, then again, those who lived on the borders of the Shire tended to travel more. Most were farmers and took their wares to Bree to sell or even to the dwarves as they generally lacked fertile farmland.

Of course it was also possible they didn't realize she was a hobbit.

The hardships of the journey had stripped her of even an ounce of extra fat while training had replaced the missing pounds with lean muscle. In addition to that she'd regretted her impulsive decision to chop her hair off almost immediately and had worked diligently to grow it out. That had led to Fili and Kili staring mournfully at her until she'd given in and allowed them to braid her stubborn locks. They'd created rows on either side of her head, leading back from the temples and uniting into one braid in the back. They'd continued that for an inch or two and then split it out once more into separate braids and wound them intricately around the column of unbraided hair until it created an elaborate column falling down her back until it stopped right at her hips.

Add to that the trousers, boots to deal with terrain even her feet couldn't handle, tunic and sword slung at her hip and it was highly likely the hobbits they passed on the road simply assumed she was a rarely seen female dwarf.

They passed into the interior of the Shire and she tensed as every footfall of the pony took her closer to Hobbiton. There was no doubt her carefully crafted reputation was gone. She could already hear Lobelia’s shrill voice in her head, accusing her of being exactly like her mother. She might even use Bilba's disappearance to try to suggest, yet again, that Bilba couldn’t possibly have been her father’s child as no real Baggins would ever behave in such a manner.

Two years ago she'd have smiled tightly and offered the odious woman more tea.

Now she would probably punch Lobelia and feel zero remorse over it.

They crested a hill and the hedge bordering Hobbiton came into view. Bilba broke out in a cold sweat and felt nausea start to churn in her stomach.

She tightened her grip slightly around Frerin, who was curled up against her sleeping peacefully. Fili had Ashrin who, for once, was also sleeping.

Forcing herself to breathe slowly and calmly, Bilba stiffened her spine and lifted her chin, focusing her eyes straight ahead.

She’d faced down trolls, orcs, goblins, a dragon and a Nazgul.

Surely she could survive her own relations.

They passed through the hedge.

The whispers started at once, some sounding shocked, others thoroughly scandalized. They swirled about her, hurried, some vanishing as their owners rushed to spread the news.

Bilba kept her eyes straight ahead but caught flickers of movement from the corners of her vision as hobbits moved out of her way. A few in her path gave her wide eyed, startled looks before turning away or leaving altogether.

Not a single one greeted her.

She hadn’t had many friends or acquaintances before but people would acknowledge her, smile at her when she passed, ask her how she'd been.

They'd at least pretended they cared.

She swallowed and fixed her eyes on Bag End. It, at least, hadn’t changed. The outside had been well tended, flowers clustered around the windows, the door had a fresh coat of paint on it and she could see vines and shoots just beginning to peek out from her garden.

They reached the gate leading up to the door and she took another deep breath, trying to remind herself to breathe.

Kili appeared at her side and reached his hands up. “Here, let me have Frerin.”

Bilba nodded shakily and handed the baby down. Kili held him easily and then slid his other arm around her waist and helped her down.

And, just like that, her feet touched the ground of Hobbiton for the first time in two years. The dirt was rich and loose under the soles of her boots, no sharp rocks or hard packed soil like in the wild.

She realized she was still holding onto Kili’s arm and forced herself to let go, taking a step back. Fili came up to stand next to him and she struggled to not throw up on his shoes.

“It would have been nice if I’d thought to bring the extra key along with me,” she said shakily, forcing a grin.

Fili shrugged. “You probably would have lost it. It wasn’t exactly easy going.”

That was true enough, Bilba agreed silently. By the time she'd left Erebor all she'd had were the clothes on her back. She didn’t even have her sword anymore. It hadn’t been with her when she’d woken up after being rescued from the Treasury and Thorin Oakenbastard had exiled them before she’d had a chance to get it back.

Thranduil had been the ones to outfit them for the journey home and Rivendell had helped them even more, ensuring they would arrive back in the Shire looking like travelers and not refugees.

The ring she’d found in the goblin tunnels was the only thing she’d had for more than a few months. It now hung from a sturdy chain around her neck, tucked away under her shirt where prying eyes couldn’t see it.

She nodded at the small bench at the end of Bag End’s steps where, once, she’d sat and talked with an exiled king about to embark on a long journey.

If only she'd known how it would turn out. Would she still have gone?

Ashrin shifted in his sleep, curling in closer to Fili, and she felt a rush of love so profound it was nearly staggering.

She would. She'd happily have done it all over again if it meant she'd end the journey with her sons in her arms.

She lifted her eyes to Fili's, slightly more composed and in control. “Would you two mind waiting here with the boys while I go get the keys from Priscilla?” She glanced down the pathway toward Priscilla and Seth's home. “I’d like to try and spread things out to her a little at a time if I could.”

Announcing she was back would undoubtedly be shock enough without immediately introducing the other women to her sons.

Fili nodded. “Of course. We’ll just--”

His voice trailed off, his eyes turned toward Bag End’s front door.

Bilba suddenly felt cold. She turned, woodenly, to face the door.

It had been closed when they first approached. Now it was open.

Priscilla stood in the doorway of Bag End. Whether she’d heard them, heard the news from someone else or just happened to open the door it didn’t matter.

She was there and Bilba had lost any hope of explaining herself before Priscilla was confronted with the whole truth.

She looked the same, dark hair perfectly curled and lying across her shoulders; dress perfectly pressed and cared for. Her skin had the faintest hint of a tan to it, placed there by hours patiently tending her garden. She was pleasantly plump and looked well rested and content.

She looked every inch the proper hobbit.

Priscilla started down the steps, slowly.

Bilba was frozen. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. She could feel Fili and Kili taking up position on either side of her but neither said a word.

She couldn’t read Priscilla’s expression. The woman’s eyes were wide, her hands tangled in the apron she was wearing. Bilba could smell fresh bread wafting from the open door and realized she’d probably been baking. Priscilla always loved to bake.

Bilba had hated it. She'd been good at it but had never enjoyed it.

Just another way she'd never been a proper hobbit.

It was highly possible the journey hadn't changed her so much as it'd uncovered who she'd already been.

Priscilla reached the gate and opened it.

“So,” Bilba blurted, before the other woman could say anything, “I’m back and…um…I know you’re probably really mad at me and you have every right. I mean, I left without talking to you about it, who does that? And then I was gone and I only sent you the one letter and you were probably really worried but I was just being selfish and immature and didn’t think of what you would think I mean I was only thinking of myself and I was gone and now I just come back without even letting you know and I--"

She was wringing her hands as she talked and nearly hyperventilating. Her voice grew shaky and, to her horror, watery as tears threatened.

Priscilla and Seth meant so much to her, more than she'd known until her journey home when the realization they might reject her had set in. They'd been there, even before she'd lost her family. While her mother had been off roaming the land it had been Priscilla who'd been fixing her hair, teaching her to sew, taking her on trips around the Shire. It had been Seth who, attempting to give Bilba's father a break from single parenthood, would come over at the same time and set off a few minutes later for the lake with his sons for a fishing trip. Bungo would be settled on his shoulders, his own little fishing rod held proudly in one hand. His loss had hit Priscilla and Seth as hard as if it had been one of their own sons.

It had always been them. Seth had been like an uncle, Priscilla's sons like two more brothers.

And Priscilla had been like her mother.

And, in return for that, Bilba had ran off on her without so much as a by-your-leave.

Priscilla was still staring at her and Bilba felt her words trail off. She let out a sound suspiciously close to a whimper and then hurriedly swiped at her face as a few traitorous tears escaped.

Without warning Priscilla took a step forward, grabbed her arms and dragged her forward. She then wrapped both arms around Bilba and hugged her, hard.

Bilba stood stiffly in her arms for a brief moment, stunned. Then she sucked in a haggard breath and threw her arms around the other woman, before promptly bursting into tears.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "Priscilla, I'm so sorry. I was selfish. I'm sorry."

Priscilla's arms tightened around her. "I didn't think you'd come back," Bilba heard her whisper. "You left and I thought the Wild would swallow you like it did your parents and Bungo."

She pulled back and looked Bilba in the eyes. "I am so angry at you." She hugged her again. "But I'm so glad you came back."

Bilba pulled back, her stomach churning as she realized she still had one more hurdle to overcome. She might as well get it over with immediately.

She stepped back to stand between Fili and Kili. "I want," she said, voice still shaky, "to introduce Fili and Kili, two of the dwarves I...um...left with."

She took a deep breath. She seemed to be doing that a lot. It would be nice if her body would remember how to breathe without her needing to remind it. Her nerves were strung so tight she was nearly vibrating as she carefully, she took Ashrin out of Fili's arms and then Frerin from Kili. She didn't look at Priscilla as she did, instead keeping her focus on the babies. She took still another deep breath, shut her eyes, and breathed out slowly.

Then she opened her eyes and lifted her head. "And this is Frerin and Ashrin. She met Priscilla's eyes. "My sons."

Priscilla stared at her. Her mouth opened, then closed, then repeated the process.

Bilba held her breath.

On either side of her, Fili and Kili might as well have been carved from stone. Bilba felt for them. They probably didn't have the first idea what to say or do.

Priscilla took a deep breath, apparently there was an air shortage in the Shire, and stepped forward. She lifted her hands out. "May I?"

Bilba blinked and then nodded hastily. "Of course."

She shifted and allowed the other woman to lift Ashrin, the baby closest to her, out of her arms.

Priscilla cradled him with the ease of long practice, gazing down at him and lightly swaying on her feet to rock him. "Oh, Bilba," she whispered, "he's beautiful." She shifted closer to Frerin, still snuggled in Bilba's arms. "They both are."

A massive weight fell off Bilba and she let out the breath she'd been holding in a rush, the feeling of relief so intense she physically swayed from it.

Priscilla looked up, her eyes going before Fili and Kili before finally  settling on Kili. "Are you--"

Bilba felt heat flood her face as she realized what Priscilla was asking. "Uh, no," she said.

_You are not one of us._

The words raced through her mind, as they did at least once a day, and pain stabbed at her heart. 

 

_You are a thief._

 

_A traitor._

 

_A liar._

 

 

 

_Do not let me see your face again._

 

 

 

"He, uh," Bilba cleared her throat and swallowed past the sudden lump in it. "We aren't...together...anymore."

Priscilla was silent for a second. Then she stepped forward and gently handed Ashrin to Kili. She then picked up Frerin from Bilba's arms and handed him to Fili.

She wrapped an arm around Bilba's waist. "It sounds like you have quite the story to tell." She tugged her toward the door, nodding at Fili to indicate he and Kili should come as well. "Come on, you must be exhausted. I'll let you get cleaned up and rested and then you can tell me all about the dwarf I'm going to murder and bury in the backyard."

Bilba gave a choked laugh. "We don't have a backyard. It's a hill."

Priscilla shrugged. "So I'll put him in the garden. I'm adaptable."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Bilba stood on the spires overlooking Erebor and watched the battle rage. Rain came down in sheets, turning the ground under her feet to slick mud that slurped and sucked at her ankles. Her entire body shook from what felt like a layer of ice lying on her skin. She wrapped her arms around her torso, digging her fingers into the skin though she was so cold she barely felt it._

_Waves of orcs crashed against the dwarves and elves, driving them back to shatter against the rocks below her. Bone crunched and blood splattered, forever marking the spot where darkness overcame the light. The roar of a thousand voices crying out in anger, pain and loss rose about her._

_“No,” Bilba whispered, “this is wrong.”_

_Her eyes tracked over the broken bodies littering the landscape. She found Ori, eyes open in horror even though there was nothing that could scare him anymore. Dori and Nori lay nearby, bodies twisted beyond anything found in nature._

_Bombur had died long before, driven into the water of a nearby river._

_The orcs had laughed as he drowned, pausing only long enough to slaughter Bofur and Bifur as they tried to save him._

_Bilba shook her head. “This isn’t how it happened,” she insisted. “It’s not.”_

_The battle parted for a second, just long enough for her to watch Gloin die as he tried to drag Oin’s corpse from the field of battle. Then the ranks closed again and she was witnessing the last seconds of Balin’s life as his head was removed from his shoulders._

_“No,” Bilba whispered. “Please.”_

_She closed her eyes and shoved her hands over her ears, desperately trying to block out the screams of the dying._

_It all stopped._

_The screaming, the clang of steel, the vibration of feet pounding on rock, all of it simply stopped leaving nothing behind but the patter of rain._

_Bilba opened her eyes._

_The plains of Erebor lay empty before her._

_“I don’t understand,” Bilba said in confusion, “what--”_

_“Bilba!”_

_The shout came from behind her and she jerked around, so fast her foot slid in the mud and she nearly fell._

_Fili knelt behind her. Kili was cradled in his arms, head back and body sprawled like a hastily discarded doll. Blood soaked his clothing, his skin, his hair. Fili had both arms wrapped around him, so tight it was as if he feared Kili would fly away if he loosened his grip. He was rocking back and forth, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His eyes, large and horror filled, locked on her._

_“Bilba,” he gasped, “Bilba, we have to--” He swallowed hard, eyes roving as he desperately tried to think of something, anything. “We have to take him…Oin…Bilba, we have to…”_

_The sword seemed to come from nowhere._

_One second Bilba was still trying to process what she was seeing. The next a shadow loomed up behind Fili, light from everywhere and nowhere glinting off a blade as it flashed through the air._

_Bilba screamed, and kept screaming long after Fili’s body had slumped down to join his brother._

_The black form standing behind them stepped forward and the darkness coalesced, became a robe, armor, a faceless cowl._

_Bilba whimpered and stumbled backward._

_Movement caught her attention and she turned her head to see Thorin racing into view. In his hands, instead of his own sword, he grasped Dwalin’s axes. The blade of one was nicked and badly pitted as though it had been used against stone instead of flesh and bone._

_Both were nearly black with blood._

_“Thorin!” Bilba screamed. “Help me!”_

_Thorin’s eyes went to his nephews and she saw his face drain of all color. For a few seconds he simply stared at them as if trying to literally will them back to life._

_The Nazgul advanced, stepping in front of the boys and blocking them from her view. Bilba moved back again, only to come up short as her heel scraped against the edge of the mountain._

_She cast another desperate look at Thorin…and her heart stopped._

_Thorin no longer held axes. Instead, cradled in his arms, were her sons._

_Bilba screamed in horror and despair, one hand going to her stomach, now perfectly flat._

_A gloved hand closed around her throat, choking off her air, and then she was being lifted off her feet._

_Thorin’s eyes hardened, his lips twisted into a vile sneer. “This is your own doing,” he snarled. “You brought this on yourself.”_

_“Thorin.” Bilba could barely get the word out, her hands clawing uselessly at the Nazgul’s arm. The grip tightened and she gagged, blackness clawing at the corners of her vision._

_Thorin lifted his head, eyes empty and cold. “I will see to it my sons know you for what you were,” he said. “A liar, traitor and a thief.” His expression shifted to one of disgust. “A woman of little consequence; unworthy of their time,” he took a step, away from her, “or mine.” With that he turned his back and began to stride away, Ashrin and Frerin clutched securely in his arms._

_The world spun and Bilba was suddenly dangling over the edge of the cliff, nothing but open sky beneath her feet. Her lungs burned and her chest felt ready to burst from the need to breathe._

_Thorin vanished out of sight, taking her children with her._

_The Nazgul’s hand opened._

_This time, there was no one below to catch her._

***

 

Bilba sat upright with a gasp, one hand gripping the front of her nightgown. She lunged to the side and half jumped, half fell from the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. Pain barked up her knees from the impact but she barely felt it as she struggled across the floor to where the cradle stood in a quiet corner of the room.

She grappled with the lantern on a nearby table, turning it up and holding it over the small bed.

Ashrin and Frerin lay snuggled together, sleeping peacefully.

Bilba let her breath out in a rush and sagged to her knees, resting her forehead against the slats of the crib. Absently she rubbed a hand along her throat. So much time had passed that the bands of dark bruising that had come up after the attack had long since faded, leaving the skin smooth and unblemished. The only evidence anything had happened at all was a slight, huskier quality to her voice, so faint as to be nearly unnoticeable. A permanent gift from the Nazgul.

Ashrin stirred slightly and she shifted, moving the lantern, and herself, to avoid awakening them. They’d only just started to sleep through the night, for the most part.

The room was dark apart from the small pool of light she stood in and the view outside showed dawn was still well in the future.

Bilba sighed and ran a hand through her unbound hair. After Priscilla had dragged them all inside she’d promptly started issuing orders, treating them like wayward children back from a long day of play. Before Bilba knew it she, Fili, Kili, and the babies had all been bathed and shown to bed. Bilba had gone to her own room and had changed into her favorite nightgown, that was now too large for her and hung off her frame. Priscilla had arrived soon after, dragging from storage the crib that had once held both Bilba and her little brother.

After settling the babies, Bilba had lain down at Priscilla’s insistence…and now here she was.

She’d fantasized about it, being back in her own home, her own bedroom, her own clothes. Now that she was it felt…off. She felt like a visitor in her own home. She tried to remember back to the young woman who’d busily packed, excited at the prospect of an adventure.

She was pretty sure that woman had died somewhere out there along the road.

She wondered what it said about her that she hadn't noticed when.

Instead of feeling like she’d come home, Bilba felt like she was standing in a tomb. A room full of someone else’s belongings waiting patiently for the return of someone long gone.

Bilba shook her head, pushing away the maudlin thoughts. It would just take time, she told herself firmly. She’d been gone so long; she couldn’t expect everything to be back to normal mere hours after she’d returned.

It occurred to her she was shivering. Now that the adrenaline had worn off and her breathing had returned to normal she was beginning to feel the chill of the room. She glanced back at the bed but her fatigue was long gone and she didn’t feel like staring at the ceiling waiting for sleep to return. She retrieved her dressing gown and her ring where it lay on the dresser. She slid the chain over her head and tucked it under her collar, flinching slightly at the cool feel of the metal on her skin. She checked to make sure the babies were warm enough and carefully went to open the door. The smell of baking bread immediately hit her and she grinned. At least some things never changed. Priscilla had always responded to stress by baking. Bilba stepped out into the hall, leaving the door open behind her. The clatter of pans came from the kitchen but she found her eyes drawn to the flicker of light playing off the walls from the fireplace in the living room.

She headed that way, stepping into the room and pausing briefly as she caught sight of Kili slumped in one of the armchairs, head propped up on his hand and eyes closed.

Bilba padded in quietly and sat the lantern down on a table before taking a seat on the rug in front of the fireplace. The flames crackled and leapt merrily and she scooted a bit closer as the heat from it washed over her. There had been a fire going that last night before she’d run off into the Wild with a pack of strangers and Gandalf.

Gandalf.

Bilba drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. She hadn’t much chance to think of the wizard on her journey home. There had been so much misery that grief had been a luxury she couldn’t afford.

He’d deserved better than that.

Movement came from the armchair and, a moment later, Kili was sitting down carefully behind her. She felt him gather up her hair and relaxed immediately as he started separating it out. Braiding it had become a ritual on the road home, once she’d finally grown it out long enough and given into their pleas to allow it.

“Had the dream again?”

“I doubt there will ever be a time I don’t,” Bilba responded ruefully, “not even when they’re big enough to look after themselves.”

She’d never told Fili or Kili the dream in full detail, just that it involved Thorin arriving and taking Ashrin and Frerin from her.

Priscilla appeared in the doorway suddenly, a tray clutched in her hand with three steaming hot cups on it. How she’d realized they were both in there, Bilba had no idea, but she wasn’t all that surprised.

She raised a hand to take an offered cup and saucer and nearly groaned in happiness at the sight of the hot chocolate and marshmallows floating in the cup.

“Here,” she handed the cup back to Kili and took another one offered down, “Priscilla makes the best hot chocolate ever.”

“So I’ve heard,” Kili said dryly. “You only mentioned it fifty times or more…a day.” Bilba heard him take a sip followed by an exclamation of “forget what I just said. I can’t believe you didn’t talk about it more often.”

Priscilla laughed before putting the tray down and then settling into the armchair Kili had vacated, her own cup and saucer in hand.

“Do the braids mean something?” She asked, indicating Bilba’s hair with one hand.

Kili sat his cup and saucer down and returned to the braids. “They do.” He started touching them, tracing the different patterns, naming the significance of each one. “Taken together,” he finished finally, “they identify her as a member of House Durin, the direct bloodline descended from Durin himself; and, specifically, as a member of the house of Dis, daughter of Thrain, son of Thror.” His voice took on a melancholy tone with the last words and Bilba felt him give a slight tug on a particular portion of the braid. “Any dwarf who saw her would know her as our sister, mine and Fili’s.”

“I see,” Priscilla said; a slightly odd note in her tone. “What does your mother think of having a new daughter? She couldn’t have asked for one better.”

Bilba frowned. Was Priscilla jealous? She tipped her head back to study the older woman. “I’ve never met her actually. She wasn’t on the quest and our leaving was so…unusual that the boys didn’t think to contact her until well after we’d started on our way home.”

“We sent a letter as soon as we reached Rivendell,” Kili broke in, “but it’d taken us so long to get there that she’d already left for Erebor.” He gave a short laugh. “That’s our mother. She probably headed out the second she heard Erebor had been reclaimed.”

“We’ve heard nothing from her since,” a new voice broke in, “though I wouldn’t have expected to.” Fili walked into view, leaning against the mantle. Seth’s borrowed nightclothes fit him poorly, as they did Kili, but he somehow managed to still look every bit the warrior.

“She wouldn’t know where you were to send a letter,” Priscilla said. “She must be worried.”

“They can write her,” Bilba said, her voice nearly a whisper. Fear clutched at her heart and she struggled to not let it show. “I’m sure she’ll come as soon as possible to visit.”

There was no reaction from Kili, his hands not even slowing as he finished her braids. Fili studied her, his own face unreadable. “We can’t,” he said finally. “Though I’m sure Uncle can guess where we went, reminding him of the fact would probably be a bad idea.”

“And why is that?” Priscilla asked.

“It’s a long story,” Bilba answered. “A really, really long story.”

“Well, in that case,” Priscilla got up and vanished into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a new steaming cup and saucer that she handed to Fili before taking her seat again. “It’s a good thing I have plenty of time.”

Bilba gave a short nod. “All right then.” She took a deep breath and began.

As expected, the telling did indeed take a very long time. Fili and Kili broke in at various spots, adding their own detail or explaining their own spots when they’d been separated from her. Bilba glossed over some of the details, the exact manner of Bungo’s death, some of what happened in the tunnels, just how stupidly in danger she’d been facing down Azog on her own.

“It’s nice to finally know,” Priscilla broke in after Bilba finished recounting the encounter with the Trolls, “it’s hard, but it’s better than not knowing.” Her face was pale and her eyes watery making Bilba wonder how much of what she’d left out the other woman had been able to guess.

Excusing herself, she got up and returned to her room where she got her parent’s rings and Bungo’s doll. Carrying them back she sat back down and handed them to Priscilla. The older woman ran her fingers over the rings and hung onto the doll like it was a lifeline. Bilba saw a few tears fall that were quickly wiped away. Kili fished a clean handkerchief out from a pocket and handed it over to a quiet thank you from Priscilla.

Bilba cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the rock that had suddenly taken residence there. “I’d originally thought I’d go back after I’d returned; bring them home to the Shire.” She absently twisted her hands in her lap. “But, now, after having my own--” She chewed on her lip. “I think…I think they’d be happier where they are. Bungo isn’t there of course but it’s where he died. I don’t think they’d want him to be left alone, if that makes any sense.”

She looked up as she spoke and Priscilla smiled. “I think it makes perfect sense. Your mother wouldn't be happy stuck in the Shire anyway and your father was always happiest wherever she was.” She stood up and carefully arranged the doll and rings on the mantle place over the fire, next to a framed painting of her parents and Bungo that had stood there most of her life.

Bilba gave a tight nod and continued with her story. She stumbled a few times, her throat clogging and her eyes burning. Kili had finished her hair and, at some point, wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her back to sit against his chest. She gripped his forearms to ground herself and forged on, finally ending with, “and then we arrived at Rivendell.”

“Where your dwarves wrote their mother but you didn’t write me to let me know you were alright.” There was only the barest hint of censure in Priscilla’s voice. For the most part she simply sounded hurt.

Bilba felt her face heat. “I almost died,” she blurted. Kili’s arms tightened around her and Fili went rigid where he still stood, his face darkening. Bilba swallowed. “I almost died,” she repeated. “The babies were too large and the elves…” She took a deep breath, “they had to cut them out.”

“She wouldn’t wake up,” Kili’s voice came from behind her. “For _weeks_ she just lay there like she was dead. We thought she was.”

At the mantle, Fili's hands were clenched in tight fists, his knuckles white. He was incredibly angry, had been since they'd left Erebor, his rage directed at his uncle. Fili, she'd found out, had put far more stock in his position than she'd originally thought. He'd worked hard to be worthy of his title, struggled with his fear of failure and a lack of self-confidence. Through it all, however, he'd held fast, firm in the belief that his uncle, who he adored and near hero worshipped, had faith in him. If Thorin Oakenshield, the hero of Moria, held faith that Fili could lead then the least Fili could do was have a little faith in himself as well.

Thorin's rejection of Fili's counsel and his subsequent actions, then, had been, to Fili the deepest kind of betrayal. Where Bilba had reacted with sadness and fear, however, Fili's reaction had been anger. An anger that had grown with every subsequent trial until, faced with Bilba's near death delivering the twins, it had developed into something very near pure hate. It bothered her to see but, to date, Bilba had no idea how to address it, or if she even should.

“I woke up eventually,” she said, taking over the retelling again, “but I was weak and it took a long time to recover. Then it was winter and you couldn’t have come anyway and then as soon as the weather got better...” She shrugged, indicating their surroundings. As she did one hand absently dropped to her stomach, tracing the thick ridges of the scar that lay under the thin fabric. The elves hadn’t had time for finesse; the scar was massive, wide and jagged, a lasting echo of the pain she’d gone through. Fili's eyes flickered toward her and Bilba flinched, removing her hand quickly.

Priscilla was suddenly kneeling in front of her, reaching out to drag her away from Kili. Bilba’s eyes widened in surprise but she went, easily returning the hug when the other woman’s arms wrapped around her. “I’m sorry, Bilba.” Priscilla. “I’m so sorry. You went through so much.”

“It was my own doing,” Bilba answered. “No one forced me to go, just my own naivety and stupidity.” She pulled back and sat lightly on her heels. “I’d do it all over again though.” She lifted her chin, her voice firm. “I suffered. I did. I suffered pain and loss and even if I knew it was going to happen beforehand I’d still do it again, and gladly.” She settled back down, Kili’s arms winding around her waist again. Fili had moved closer and now knelt next to her. Bilba reached out and grabbed his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. “I found out what happened to my parents and brother. I gained two new brothers on the road and I got my sons. I wouldn’t trade that, not for anything. What I got was worth what I lost.”

That little speech got her another hug from Priscilla, as well as one from Fili and Kili. Just as she was finally disentangling herself a familiar cry sounded from the hall and she laughed. “That would be my cue I think.”

“It’s getting lighter,” Priscilla said. Bilba looked toward the window and saw that, indeed, the night had passed and the sky was noticeably, and quickly, brightening outside.

“Go take care of your sons,” Priscilla nodded at Fili and Kili. “I mended and washed your clothing for you. Go get dressed and you can help me set the table.”

The lost princes of Erebor nodded and scrambled for their rooms, probably already fantasizing about food. It had been awhile since any of them had eaten anything of substance and Fili and Kili had nearly cried in frustration at the abundance of what they swore was rabbit food at Rivendell.

Bilba went back to her room to take care of her sons and get changed herself. After feeding the boys and settling them back down, they were as exhausted from the journey home as she was; she picked out a new outfit. To her surprise Priscilla had mended and cleaned her clothing as well but, after only a brief hesitation, she left them lying on the bed and chose a light, summer dress instead.

Bilba Baggins the adventurer was done. It was time for Bilba Baggins of Bag End to pick back up with her life.

She checked her boys one more time and then headed to the kitchen where Fili and Kili were already helping themselves to the massive spread Priscilla had laid out. It easily rivaled the one Bilba had prepared the day they’d met and it was with a feeling of nostalgia that she sat down to join them. She imagined she’d have that feeling a number of times over the next few days, and maybe even weeks, until she’d gotten used to being home again.

They were halfway through the meal when they heard the sound of the door opening followed by Seth’s voice calling out, “Priscilla? We’re back!”

Bilba stood up, her nerves instantly acting up. Seth hadn’t been home when they’d arrived. Priscilla had said he’d gone to Buckland to visit their newest grandchild. Bilba had wondered why Priscilla hadn’t gone as well but the other woman hadn’t volunteered the information so she hadn’t asked.

Footsteps sounded and Bilba tried to quiet the sudden fit of butterflies going mad in her stomach.

Seth rounded the corner but he wasn’t alone. Behind him walked another hobbit, shorter in stature, properly plump with light brown hair only a few shades off from Seth’s hair.

Bilba reacted without thinking. With a shriek of “Adalgrim!” she leapt up, ran over and threw herself into his arms hard enough to knock him back a step.

He tensed, clearly startled, but then threw his arms around her in a grip so tight she could barely breathe.

“Bilba,” she heard him whisper. “You came back.”

Bilba pulled back, her eyes shining. “I did.”

Before he could respond a hand was grabbing her arm and suddenly she was being dragged into Seth’s arms.

“Thank Eru,” he breathed, “I thought we’d lost you.”

Bilba buried her face in the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry, Seth. I’m so sorry.”

He released her and stepped back, wiping a hand across his face.

Bilba moved to wrap her arms around Fili and Kili’s waists. “Seth, Adalrim this is Fili and his brother, Kili.” She looked up at the princes. “Fili, Kili, this is Seth and his son, Adalgrim. We were best friends as children.”

Adalgrim raised an eyebrow. “Only as children? I would hope the term would still apply.”

Bilba laughed. “Of course, even though you ran away to Buckland.”

Adalgrim chuckled. The words were almost identical to the ones she’d said to him that day years earlier when he’d announced he was leaving. Friends forever, no matter the distance. “You could have come with me.”

Bilba rolled her eyes. “And leave Bag End? I think not.”

Adalgrim snorted. “More like you didn’t want to leave Fram.” His voice twisted slightly on the name, clear disgust coloring his tone. Adalgrim had always hated Fram, taking almost any chance to disparage the other hobbit. Most of their fights had been around his distaste for Fram contrasted with Bilba’s infatuation with him.

Seth spoke from her side suddenly, his brow furrowed in concern. “How long can you stay? The Bounders didn’t give you any problems did they?”

“Seth!” Priscilla’s voice was sharp but Bilba was already turning to him.

“The Bounders?” She asked in confusion. “Why would I have a problem with the Bounders? And what do you mean about how long? I’m home now, for good.”

Seth turned to Priscilla. “You haven’t told her?”

Priscilla scowled at him. “I just got her back, Seth.”

“She deserves to know,” he insisted.

“ _She_ is standing right here,” Bilba said, her ire starting to rise, “and would very much appreciate knowing what is going on.”

Seth started to open his mouth but Priscilla grabbed his arm. “Outside,” she ordered, “now.” With that she nearly dragged him out of the house.

Adalgrim slid an arm across her shoulders. “Come on,” he said, his voice quiet. “Let’s go talk.”

Bilba swallowed, cold settling in her stomach. Adalgrim was being serious. He was never serious. It felt like her insides were twisting. She’d known it wouldn’t be so easy. She’d known she couldn’t just come back without any consequence.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Let’s go talk.”

She started to follow Adalgrim out only to have him pause as Fili and Kili started after them. “I think it’d be best if I spoke to her alone,” he said firmly.

“No,” Bilba answered immediately. She reached out and grabbed Fili’s sleeve, dragging him forward until she could pull away from Adalgrim and wrap her arms around his bicep. As she did Kili stepped up close to her other side and she transferred one arm around his bicep so she was holding onto both of them. “I’d prefer it if they stayed.”

An odd expression crossed Adalgrim’s face, there and gone almost before she’d fully processed it. “All right.” With that he turned and walked out with Bilba following close behind.

Adalgrim led them to her father’s study at the back of the house. As they entered the room he closed the door and locked it behind them. Bilba tensed at being separated even that much from her sons but forced herself to calm down. Priscilla would look after them and let her know if they needed her. She imagined the other woman would explain things to Seth and introduce him to the babies. She was somewhat glad she wouldn’t have to be the one to do it.

There were only three chairs in the room, the one behind the desk and two in front of it. Adalgrim dragged that one out and she sat in it quietly. He sat in another across from her and Kili took the final seat at her side. Bilba’s back was to the desk and Fili hopped up easily on the edge, his legs dangling next to Bilba on her side opposite Kili.

Adalgrim reached out to take her hands and Bilba felt her heart fall. “Stop trying to placate me, Adalgrim,” she said in resignation, “and just tell me what’s going on.”

Adalgrim frowned. "You've changed."

"I should hope so," Bilba muttered. "It's been years since we last spoke after all."

"No," Adalgrim muttered, "it's much more than that." Bilba merely raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed. “All right. It started almost as soon as you left. Lobelia tried to take control of Bag End. She claimed you’d abandoned it and, as a blood relative, she had ownership.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Bilba said in irritation. She should have guessed Lobelia would try something like that. “I left letters.”

Adalgrim nodded. “Mom used them to prove you were only going to be gone a short time and, for a while, it worked.” His eyes narrowed. “But then you didn’t come home.”

“But I sent more letters,” Bilba said. “Aragorn said he would deliver them.”

“He did,” Adalgrim said. Anger flashed in his eyes. “Which is when Fram Harfoot got involved.”

Bilba blinked. “Fram?”

The word sounded foreign as she said it and she wondered idly when the last time was she’d even thought of the other hobbit much less said his name.

At one time he was all she thought about.

Now…now she wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever truly been in love with him. He’d been proper, the most proper hobbit in Hobbiton and she’d been so desperate to be proper too. He’d represented that to her and it was that idea she’d been in love with.

At the time she’d thought the dwarves showing up on her doorstep had ruined her life.

Now she felt they had most likely saved it.

Adalgrim cleared his throat, eyes flickering toward Fili and Kili. “Fram made his own push for Bag End. He insisted that the two of you had been…” he cleared his throat again, his eyes looking at anything but her. “He said you two had been lovers and that you’d left him Bag End. Mom had kept the letter you sent her giving him permission to stay and…I don’t know…somehow he got it. I don’t know if he broke in himself or sent someone else but he got that letter and used it as evidence to bolster his claims.”

Bilba’s mouth literally fell open. “Fram?” She said in shock. “ _Fram_ said that? Fram _did_ that? Why? Why would he do that?”

“You didn’t see him for what he was,” Adalgrim said. “I tried, Bilba. Don’t you remember? I tried to tell you.”

He had, Bilba recalled. The day he’d left for Buckland. He’d left her a letter in her mailbox. In it he’d detailed awful accusations against Fram claiming, among other things, that he’d fathered illegitimate children and refused to take responsibility for them and that there were questions about the inheritance his family had gained upon the unfortunate and, untimely, death of a relation.

Bilba had been horrified and had written a sharply worded letter to Adalgrim chiding him for spreading such nasty rumors. It had driven a deep rift into their friendship that had taken years to heal.

Adalgrim glanced at Fili and Kili and then back to her. “Bilba, it gets worse.”

“How can it be worse?” Bilba asked.

Adalgrim ran a hand over his face. “Fram claimed that you were tired of your grandfather controlling your money and that you didn’t believe he’d ever let you have it if he found out you moved a lover into your home. He said you left with the dwarves to make money, enough to allow the two of you to live without the need for the money your grandfather controlled.”

“Okay,” Bilba said, “so my grandfather probably isn’t thrilled but, then again, he wasn’t happy with me in the first place, even before I left.”

She remembered Aragorn giving her back the doll and rings citing her grandfather’s anger and his own fear that she’d never see the items again if he’d left them with the Thain. Her grandfather already hadn’t spoken to her much. It wouldn’t be surprising if he didn’t talk to her at all now.

“It’s not that,” Adalgrim said. He gave a low groan and put his face in his hands for a moment. “It’s not that you went to make money, it’s _how_ you were going to make it, according to Fram.”

Bilba felt a strange feeling of foreboding. “How did he say I was going to earn it?”

Adalgrim looked tired suddenly and far older than the two years he had on her. “Fram was smart, Bilba. He played on the rumors Lobelia had already spent years spreading about your mother. He claimed you were just like her, that you were proud of it in fact.”

Bilba stared at him. “My mother--” Her voice trailed off as realization hit so hard she actually swayed in place as a wave of dizziness overcame her.

Fili must have figured it out on his own at the same moment because he suddenly let loose a long string of swear words in Khuzdul, so impressive in scope and depth it actually included a few she had never heard as well as a few used in creative new ways. He leapt to his feet and snarled, “Tell me where he is. Now!”

He stepped forward only to have Adalgrim get up to try and stop him. Adalgrim came up to the about Fili’s nose but he held his ground and, even as Fili yelled about stringing Fram up in the front yard, Adalgrim yelled right back.

“Bilba?” Kili leaned forward, his eyes wide. “I don’t get it. What did he say?”

Bilba was shaking, her fingers digging into the armrests of the chair. “Um…he…” Another wave of dizziness washed over her and she closed her eyes a second to let it clear. “He told people I went with you as a prostitute, Kili. A group…prostitute.”

Kili stared at her. A second later he was up as well, joining in with his brother as the three of them argued.

Bilba struggled to her feet to try and calm them down. It would be okay, she told herself. She’d had a good reputation while she’d been there. She’d never even had a boyfriend for Yavanna’s sake and there was no one who could claim she’d ever been caught in a compromising position because it hadn’t happened. She might not be able to convince them all but she could convince some. She could…and then she could hunt down Fram on a nice dark night and punch him in the face…a couple of times.

How could she have been so blind? She owed Adalgrim an apology, multiple apologies.

She nodded to herself, her breath evening out a bit as the plan solidified in her mind. It would be okay, she decided. Her reputation would take a hit but she could repair it. After all it wasn’t like…

Her knees buckled and she hit the floor with a thud. Instantly she had Fili, Kili and Adalgrim kneeling around her.

“Bilba?” Fili gripped her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“The children,” Bilba said in despair, “Fili, they’ll never believe the truth. They’ll believe Fram.”

Adalgrim jerked back as though struck. “You have children?”

“I fell in love, Adalgrim,” Bilba snapped. “With _one_ dwarf, _one_ time and it went horribly wrong but, yes, I gained my sons from it.”

“I believe you,” Adalgrim said without hesitation, “I do, Bilba. I know you. You know I believe you.”

Bilba sagged to a sitting position on the floor and curled up against Fili, one hand clutching his shirt.

“Adalgrim,” she said, finally. “Why?”

“Lobelia and Fram both started trying to take Bag End almost as soon as you left,” Adalgrim repeated. “Mom and Dad eventually moved in to stop them from taking it from under your nose. They always made sure at least one of them was at home at all times so there would be no chance of Lobelia or Fram breaking in and setting up shop.”

Bilba gave an absent nod. She had wondered why Priscilla was living in Bag End and not in her own home but hadn’t questioned her. Priscilla was more than welcome to live in Bag End, as far as she was concerned, any time she wanted for as long as she wanted.

“Okay,” she said, “so they couldn’t take my house because Priscilla and Seth had letters from me giving my permission for them to stay.”

Adalgrim nodded. “Fram could make all the claims he wanted but he didn’t have the keys and Lobelia had no claims to it whatsoever.”

“So then Fram destroyed my reputation.” Bilba sat up. An awful realization was starting to bubble up at the back of her mind. One so terrible she almost didn’t want to voice it.

But one thing she’d learned on her journey was not asking the question didn’t change the answer.

“To what end?” She asked. “What was Fram hoping to gain?”

Adalgrim couldn’t meet her eyes again. “It’s not what he hoped to gain; it’s what he did gain. Fram put you on trial, Bilba. He charged you before the Thain of being a Menace to Society.”

It was like someone had punched her in the stomach. Slowly, in an almost trancelike state, Bilba pushed herself to her feet and made it the few steps to look out the window onto the Shire. The sun had risen, lighting up green, flowing fields and quaint homes.

It was a place of peace, of quiet, a unique area that existed in few other places in the world.

She gripped the wood of the window ledge. “What was the verdict?”

“Guilty.”

Bilba shut her eyes. “Of course it was.”

“It was about three months ago,” Adalgrim said. “Bag End’s been tied up in court ever since. Fram and Lobelia are both insisting they have rights to Bag End. Mom and Dad say it’s theirs by virtue of them living in it. So far it’s been a stalemate.”

“I don’t understand,” Fili’s voice came from behind her. “What does it mean that she was found guilty? How did it allow anyone to start fighting for control of Bag End?”

“She forfeited all rights to property in the Shire,” Adalgrim said, his voice tight with anger. “Normally she’d be allowed to sell it herself but since she wasn’t here it was left up in the air.”

“Forfeited all rights?” Kili said in surprise. “Why? What does being a Menace to Society mean?”

Bilba turned around to face them. “It means I’ve been exiled from the Shire.” She gave a short bitter laugh. “I'll have to be more careful. Otherwise getting exiled will become a habit and I’ll have nowhere left to live at all.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“We can fix this,” Kili said suddenly. “We can fix it.”

Bilba gave him a confused look. “What? No, Kili, we can’t.”

“No,” Kili shook his head and stepped forward until he was right in front of her. Reaching down he started to tug his ring off his hand. It was identical to one Fili wore, identifying the two as sons of Durin and heirs to the throne of Erebor. The ring slid off and Kili grabbed her hand, lifted it and started to slide it onto her ring finger.

“Kili!” Bilba tried to jerk her hand back but his grip was unbreakable, “What are you _doing_?”

“What _are_ you doing?” Fili asked behind him. He didn’t seem overly concerned about it whatever it was, leaning slightly to the side to look around Kili’s back, his arms crossed over his chest.

Kili looked back at him, a feverish look in his eyes. “It’ll work. I look enough like him. The babies could just as easily pass for mine as his.”

Bilba gaped at him, finally catching on. “Kili--”

“You’ve been gone two years,” Kili insisted, cutting her off, “and Ash and Frerin are aging like dwarves. They look much younger than they are.” He locked eyes with hers, his own unusually intense. “We fell in love on the trail and married once Erebor was retaken. You were anxious to return home so we left at once, not realizing you were already expecting. Fili chose to come with us because he’s overprotective and wanted to make sure we made it safely.”

Fili opened his mouth as if he planned to object to the label, paused as he considered it, and then shrugged conceding the point.

Kili slid the ring the rest of the way on and intertwined his fingers with hers. The ring was far too large and rolled about on her finger. Kili studied her, pleading. “It can work, Bilba. You know it can. They’ll know that weasel was lying. You’ll be reinstated. You won’t have to be exiled from your own home.”

Bilba sighed and reached up to cup his face in one hand. Pushing up on her toes she kissed him lightly on the forehead and then dropped down again. She carefully disentangled her hand, pulled the ring off and replaced it on his hand. She then wrapped both arms around him and hugged him, turning her head to rest on his chest so she could look outside.

“Bilba,” Kili said helplessly, “why--”

“Because she knows it’s too late,” Adalgrim said tonelessly, “Shire law, at times, can be exceptionally harsh. This is one of those times.

“How so?” Fili asked.

“A Menace of the Peace is erased from all records,” Adalgrim answered. “She can’t be reinstated because as far as Shire law is concerned she no longer exists as a Hobbit. There is no Bilba Baggins _to_ reinstate.”

Bilba shut her eyes and tightened her grip on Kili, her fingers curling into the back of his shirt.

“What?” Kili sounded stunned. “But that’s ridiculous!”

“It is what it is,” Adalgrim said, his voice defensive. “She had a grace period to appeal and get her affairs in order.”

“Which she wasn’t even here for!” Fili said his voice tight with anger.

“We tried,” Adalgrim shot back. “We tried to save her but no one was willing to listen. Fram and Lobelia may not have been working together but they were both working toward the same goal, destroying her reputation to try and get Bag End.”

An act she had certainly helped them achieve by her own reckless actions. Bilba sighed and relaxed against Kili. He easily adjusted his stance, bracing her.

She could have ended up married to Fram. She remembered the dinner he’d missed and how she’d ran into him that night. He’d made up some excuse or another and she’d bought it without question.

Then, later, he’d met her on her way out and, later still, had written her a letter in Rivendell.

She’d believed he was actually interested in her.

He’d really only been interested in Bag End.

She frowned suddenly as a memory floated up. Pulling away from Kili, she leaned around to look at Fili. “You never liked Fram.”

He shrugged. “There was something off about him. I couldn’t put my finger on it then, though I certainly can now.”

He’d barely met Fram and had seen something wrong whereas Bilba had virtually stalked him for years and seen nothing.

Valar, had she really been that blind?

Her eyes narrowed suddenly.

Fram had targeted her.

Yes, she’d been blind and naïve and incredibly stupid.

And Fram had seen it and taken advantage.

She stared at the floor, studying the wood grain beneath her feet. Fili, Kili and Adalgrim were still arguing about something but she tuned them out. Idly she picked up Kili’s hand and began toying with his ring, her mind working.

Fram had taken advantage of her.

The Bilba of two years ago would have probably refused to believe it. She’d have probably ended up marrying the snake and setting him up in Bag End.

And then what? She remembered the number of times she’d seen Poppy around Fram, the mentions he’d made of her in the letter he’d written.

Her lip curled as it all suddenly became, blindingly clear.

The _bastard_. He would have set himself up in her home and carried on with Poppy behind her back. She’d have been a laughingstock, believing herself to have finally achieved propriety and respectability when, in reality, she’d have been looked at with pity and scorn for being so blind.

Even if she’d had her eyes forcibly opened to the truth she’d probably have simply collapsed in tears and spent of the rest of her life berating and blaming herself.

She’d spent so much time trying to fit in, be proper, be respectable.

She’d wanted to be just like Fram.

Maybe, in a way, she already had been.

She’d been trying to be something she was not, something _Fram_ was not.

Look where it had gotten her then.

Valar, look where it had gotten her now.

She slid the ring off Kili’s hand once again and studied it, watching the sun from the window glint off the metal.

She’d been so scared of being rejected by people she didn’t even know. The people she loved hadn’t cared about her status or respectability. They’d simply cared about her for who she was, not who they wanted her to be or who _she_ wanted to be.

She’d been so scared of the Shire rejecting her and now that it had…

She felt relieved.

The realization startled her.

She thought back to her time in the Shire, contrasted with her time on the road.

She’d been happier when she was gone.

It hadn’t ended the way she’d wanted obviously but, overall, she’d been happy. No pressure to conform, a new adventure every day, seeing the world in all its splendor…and a wide assortment of creatures that had wanted to eat her. That part hadn’t been so fun but, then again, nothing was ever completely perfect was it?

“I was bored,” she whispered.

Kili frowned down at her. “What?”

Bilba looked up at him. “I was bored. In the Shire. I was so bored before you came.”

“That’s not surprising,” Fili remarked dryly. “There’s not exactly a lot to do around here.”

“There’s plenty to do,” Adalgrim argued. “The Shire is a wonderful place to live. It’s peaceful.”

“For you, yes,” Bilba shot back, “Because it’s what you want. But it’s not what I want.” She looked at Fili and Kili, her eyes widening in understanding. “You couldn’t possibly be happy here. You’d be bored to tears.”

She thought back to Rivendell. By the time she’d had the babies and recovered enough to travel they’d been heading into the beginning of winter. There had been no rush, no reason to risk newborn babies, barely two months old at the time, to unexpected bad weather, so they’d stayed through the winter and left in the spring to go home.

Fili and Kili had been wretchedly unhappy…and so had she. Rivendell was too quiet, the life too simple, too boring.

The Shire was exactly the same.

Fili shrugged. “It’s fine. We’d figure something out.”

“No,” Bilba insisted. “You wouldn’t. You’d stay for me but you’d be miserable.” She paused, turning her attention back to Kili. “And so would I…and the boys, once they got old enough to care.”

Adalgram made an odd noise. “Bilba. What are you saying?”

Bilba grinned. She suddenly felt lighter than she had in a long, long time.

She felt free.

She thought back to the look of excitement in her mother’s eyes every time she set off on another adventure beyond the borders of the Shire.

She thought she understood now.

It was just possible there was more of her mother in her than she’d thought.

“I think,” she said carefully, “that Lobelia and Fram did me a favor.”

Adalgrim gaped at her. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh,” Bilba said, “but I am.” She studied the ring for a moment and then slid it back on Kili’s finger. “That doesn’t mean I plan to let them just get away with it though.” She looked up at Kili, not missing the matching look of relief in his eyes. She gave him a brilliant smile. “Excuse me for just a moment, would you?”

With that she spun on one foot and headed out of the room. On the way she stopped in front of Fili, grabbed his hand and pulled his ring off. “I need to borrow this for a bit.” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t question her. Bilba ran back to her room and searched through the wardrobe to find the most proper and respectable dress she could. She changed into it quickly, tying the sash behind her and checking the skirt to ensure there wasn’t a single wrinkle.

She then carefully began to remove the braids from her hair, before carefully heating her iron, curling the unruly  locks as best as possible and then tying it up with ribbons. She stood in front of her mirror and studied her reflection. She was still too thin from her time on the road and her hands bore calluses from swordplay instead of working with a gardening trowel but it was the best she could do.

She dug up some twine and wrapped it around the band of Fili’s ring, making it smaller until she could put it on without it falling off. As long as she was careful it was impossible to tell she’d done anything to it at all.

Ash and Frerin were both awake, gurgling happily and babbling to each other in what she was convinced was their own private language. Bilba carefully picked one up, tucking him into one arm and then picked up the other.

She headed out of the room, and nearly collided with Priscilla and Seth coming the other way.

“Bilba!” Priscilla looked startled at the change in her clothing. “Adalgrim talked to you, didn’t he? I’m going to kill him.” She reached out and grabbed her shoulders. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to leave. This is your home. It’ll always be your home.”

“I’m sorry, Priscilla,” Bilba said, “but you’re wrong. I love you and Seth but this isn’t my home. I don’t know where it is yet, but it’s not here.”

She gave a tentative smile at Seth and stepped forward, swallowing past the butterflies in her stomach. “Seth, I’d like you to meet Ash and Frerin.”

Seth reached out and gently lifted Frerin out of her arms, cradling him with the ease of long experience. Bilba turned to Priscilla to see that, instead of hurt or anger, the other woman was looking at her with affectionate resignation. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said, “You are the daughter of Belladonna Took. She was never entirely happy here either, no matter how hard she tried.”

Bilba smiled. Priscilla held her arms out for Ash and she happily handed him over. “It’s going to be okay, Priscilla. I’m going to take care of things. Neither Fram nor Lobelia are getting Bag End.”

She went back to the study and dropped down behind her father’s desk. Priscilla followed her in and took her son over to Adalgrim to make introductions.

Bilba pulled out the lowest drawer in her father’s desk, revealing a mass of papers and files.

Fili crouched down next to her, hands clasped in front of him. “What are you doing?”

She shoved a mass of papers over to him. “Looking for my father’s will. I remember him showing it to me when I was a kid. It’s in here somewhere.”

“Okay,” Fili started to search through the papers, passing some over to Kili when he joined them. He raised an eyebrow at her. “You took your braids out.”

“Only temporarily,” Bilba said. “I want to prove a point.” She gave Kili a guilty look. “I’m sorry. I know you worked hard on them.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, “I can put them back in later.”

Bilba smiled, “I’d like that.”

It only took a few minutes before Bilba found what she was looking for and waved it in triumph. “Got it!”

She sprang to her feet and stepped back around the desk. She retrieved Frerin and handed him to Kili. She then slid the will into a pocket and took Ash, holding him in her right arm. He laughed and grabbed a lock of her hair, stuffing it, and most of his chubby fist, into his mouth to suck on.

Bilba grinned at Kili and wrapped her free hand around the bicep of his free arm. She positioned her hand so the ring was front and center. It was a huge ring, designed for a much larger hand, and dominated her finger.

“Kili,” she said demurely, “would you go on a walk with me to go visit the Thain?”

He blinked in surprise. “All right.”

“I’m going too,” Fili said, pushing to his feet. “I’m overprotective.” His eyes widened suddenly with glee, “wait a minute.” He ran out of the room, only to return a few minutes later sporting his weapons. He held Kili’s sword and bow and quiver of arrows and quickly got them strapped onto his brother. “Just in case we run into good old Fram,” he said darkly.

“One can hope,” Kili replied mildly.

“All right.” Bilba nodded at Priscilla, Seth and Adalgrim. “You should stay here. We’ll be back soon.”

“Bilba--” Priscilla started to say but Bilba shook her head.

“You still have a lot to lose,” she said. “I don’t want it coming down on you in case something goes wrong.”

Like Fili actually ended up stabbing Fram. Maybe she should let him hold one of the babies instead, keep his sword arm occupied.

“All right,” she said again, “let’s go.”

They headed to the front door, which still stood open, and walked out. They headed down the front walkway and out onto the dirt path beyond. Fili started to turn toward the exit from the hill but Bilba shook her head. “Not yet. We should visit the marketplace first.”

“If that's what you want,” Fili said. They headed in that direction. Bilba and Kili walked in front while Fili strolled along behind, one hand on the hilt of his sword like a self-proclaimed bodyguard.

The market was full as it always was in the early morning. As they neared Bilba felt her nerves starting to act up and tightened her grip on Kili’s arm.

“It’s odd,” Kili said suddenly, “it’s like the last time when we went to the market.”

“Not quite the same,” Bilba said. “I was being carried like a sack of potatoes.”

“That’s fixed easily enough,” Fili said from behind her.

Bilba snorted and shook her head.

They entered the market and all conversation ceased.

Around her, every hobbit stopped and stared at her. Bilba put a giant smile on her face and smiled at Kili. “Sweetheart, what would you like to see first?”

To his credit, Kili barely stumbled. “Whatever you want, Love,” he returned easily.

Bilba flinched. Thorin had been the last one to call her Love and his betrayal still cut at her in a way she hadn’t known was possible. She took a deep breath and grinned at him before continuing on her “tour” of the Shire market.

None of the other hobbits attempted to speak to her. They probably weren’t sure how to react. She was a Menace to Society, after all. Yet here she was looking and behaving like a proper hobbit with a family. Admittedly, a dwarven family, but she did what she could.

“Bilba Baggins,” a voice said suddenly, “What – what are you doing here?”

A genuine grin spread across Bilba’s face.

She turned to face Lobelia. The other woman was standing in the middle of the market, face flushed and hair slightly awry as though she’d run the entire way.

She probably had.

Bilba felt Kili’s arm tense but she tightened her own grip on him and forced her own ire down. Lobelia’s actions were heinous, not just from what the woman had done to her reputation but from all the lies she’d leveled against Bilba’s mother over the years.

The only thing more heinous was the fact Bilba had put up with it so long.

“Bilba, wife of Kili, son of Vili,” Bilba corrected.

The other woman made a strangled sound and Bilba took the opportunity to continue. “Gandalf recommended me to Kili’s uncle and he hired me to help them with the farmland around Erebor once they took retook their home.” Close enough. Dwarves weren’t exactly farmers. It’d make sense that a group from the Blue Mountains, who were constantly passing through the Shire, might want a hobbit to help them with growing their own food. She gazed up at Kili. “We fell in love on the journey and married once the mountain had been taken back.”

Lobelia stammered, trying to catch up. She’d already lost the upper hand and knew it. “I see you came back with a few extras,” she finally managed.

“Yes!” Bilba said. She let go of Kili’s arm and stepped forward to show off her baby. “Aren’t they beautiful? I didn’t even know I was expecting when we set out to return home.”

Ash chose that moment to start giggling at something and several of the hobbits made sounds of “aww”. Bilba grinned, Menace to Society or not, her sons had done nothing wrong and it would be a hardhearted hobbit indeed who would hold anything against an infant.

Lobelia had caught sight of her ring as she moved. It was hard to miss. It was huge and clearly very expensive. Bilba stepped back and intertwined her hand with Kili’s, deliberately putting her ring right next to his, showing off the fact they matched.

“So I guess you lied when you said they were princes,” Lobelia said snidely, “since they were so willing to come back with you.”

“Kili chose to come back,” Fili broke in. “I just saw them back safely. I’m the heir. Kili chose to make a new life for himself and move with Bilba to the Shire.”

“They are princes,” Bilba said, taking over. “If you don’t believe me you are more than welcome to write to Thorin, King under the Mountain, in Erebor and ask him yourself. It’s not hard to prove.”

Her heart clenched at speaking Thorin’s name out loud, almost as if by simply saying it she’d somehow draw his attention all the way from Erebor. The thought of a letter being sent worried her but it should be all right. They would be long gone by the time Thorin saw it.

The other hobbits around the market were beginning to whisper amongst themselves.

“Lobelia,” a nearby woman spoke up timidly, “You never said she was hired to be a gardener. Or that Gandalf set it up.”

Lobelia had never tried to slander Gandalf. He might be considered a Disturber of the Peace like her mother but he’d also bought a lot of goodwill with his fireworks. Not only that but the histories of their people spoke of how the wizard had aided the Shire during both the Long Winter and the Fell Winter. Thousands had died during those two events and thousands more would have had Gandalf and the Rangers had not intervened.

Stating that Gandalf had set up her adventure might not restore her entirely in the eyes of the other hobbits but it gave the dwarves credibility, raising them from vagabonds to people worthy of his attention.

“Well, I don’t understand how Lobelia would know,” Bilba said innocently, “she wasn’t involved at all. I was the one who signed the contract and agreed to help.” She turned and smiled at the woman. “You should have seen it, Pansy. In fact, you probably already have. Have you not seen caravans of dwarves from the Blue Mountains passing on their way through to Erebor?”

“My cousin has,” another hobbit spoke up, “word has been spreading for months. The dwarves are celebrating. They say their home is returned to them and Thorin Oakenshield is crowned king.”

“And these are his nephews,” Bilba stated. She nodded at Fili, “Fili,” and then Kili, “and Kili, who I married at Erebor.” She shifted to indicate her boys. “And these are our children, Ashrin and Frerin.”

There was dead silence again, but this time all eyes were on Lobelia. She, in turn, was turning a rather interesting shade of purple.

“Bilba,” One of the other hobbits was addressing her, for the first time. “Have you spoken to Priscilla?”

“I have,” Bilba said, “And I am saddened to know what has happened in my absence.” She kept silent about the whys and wherefores. The others already knew and any attempt by her to place blame would only reflect poorly on her. Best instead to appear as innocent and virtuous as possible rather than give even the slightest hint that anything Lobelia had said about her being odd or unnatural might be true. “It’s all right though. I’ll admit I had been conflicted about taking Kili from his family. We’ll return to Erebor and take up residence there. My boys will be happy and I know Fili will be glad to not be separated from his brother.”

She took a step back. “Well, then, come along Love. We still have more places to see. I was really looking forward to showing you the Shire.”

Kili nodded. Unlike Bilba he had no problem with staring at Lobelia, his eyes hard and face set.

Bilba took his arm again and they turned to walk out, leaving Lobelia sputtering in the midst of the other hobbits.

“That,” Fili said a few minutes later, “was interesting.”

“If I punched her or slapped her it would only serve to prove her point,” Bilba explained as they walked back up the hill. “They would see me as wild and violent, as non-hobbit as she insists I am.”

“So instead you showed them a perfectly respectable, proper hobbit,” Kili said.

Bilba nodded. “Thereby planting a healthy seed of doubt in everyone’s mind. I can’t promise everyone will believe it but I do know her reputation is pretty much in shreds. She painted me as the worst of the worst and here I come looking entirely respectable with a husband.” She gave Kili an appraising look. “And a prince no less.”

Kili snorted. “Not so much anymore.”

“Well they don’t know that,” Bilba said. "And I'm certainly not going to be the one to tell them."

They headed toward Buckland, leaving through the hedge in much the same way she had two years earlier. This time Fram wasn’t waiting for her which was a blessing, for him.

The walk was peaceful. It reminded her of the long walks she and the boys would take in Rivendell during the long winter months they’d stayed there. She’d read virtually every book in the library, started teaching Fili and Kili how to speak Sindarin…and had walked. She’d investigated every square inch of Rivendell, spent many days talking to Aragorn, Glorfindel and Legolas, even Elrond at times.

Maybe she’d go back there, for a while at least, until the babies were older. After that they could travel, visit the remnants of the Blue Mountaiin colony, and travel to Gondor and Rohan.

She’d always wanted to visit Gondor and Rohan. She could feel excitement starting to bubble inside her at the thought. Middle Earth was a huge place and she was going to get to see all of it.

They reached Buckland and Bilba headed straight for her grandfather’s home. Thain Fortinbras II live in one of the Great Smials, filled to bursting with his family and relations. Most of them were related to Bilba but she hadn’t met even half of them.

The last time she’d been there, in fact, had been the days after her family had been lost, before Seth and Priscilla had taken her back to Bag End.

There were dozens of hobbits of all ages running about outside but as she neared they all vanished into the nearest door until, by the time they had reached it, there wasn’t a hobbit in sight.

Bilba stopped and turned to face the boys, gently handing off her son to Fili. “Would you mind staying out here with them for a moment?”

Fili frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want us going with you?”

Bilba hesitated. To be honest she _didn’t_ particularly want to go in alone. “I’d rather not have my sons around my grandfather, to be honest.”

“Okay,” Fili said. He turned to Kili and held out his free arm. “Here, let me take him and you can go in with her.”

Kili nodded and handed over Frerin.

Bilba smiled in relief and took Kili’s arm again. With her other hand she pulled the will out of her pocket.

“Okay,” she said, “let’s go.”

She and Kili headed up to the door while Fili moved to find a place to sit with the boys.

Bilba grabbed the door and pushed it open, revealing the large hall beyond it, stretching away deep into the hillside.

“Wow,” Kili said. “This place makes Bag End look like a closet.”

“It’s a multi-family home,” Bilba said, “and by multi I mean a dozen or more families.”

“And they’re all related to the Thain?”

Bilba nodded. “They are. Come on.”

She tugged him inside and shut the door behind her. The hall was empty, everyone having vanished into one room or another. No one wanted to associate with the Menace to Society; it might end up being contagious.

Bilba headed straight to her Grandfather’s study. She didn’t doubt he was in there. She was halfway convinced he lived in there.

She didn’t bother to knock.

She was a Menace to Society after all.

She shoved the door open and strode through, leaving it ajar behind her. The rest of his family would soon be gathered about trying to listen and she wanted to make sure they could hear.

Fortinbras looked up from his desk as she walked in. The Thain was a large hobbit and so old that the wrinkles on his face had wrinkles of their own. He squinted at her through eyes fast losing their sight. “Who’s that now?”

“It’s me, Grandfather,” Bilba said, stopping before his desk. “Bilba.”

He scowled, looking back to his papers. “I have no grandchild by that name.”

Bilba grabbed the papers and jerked them away, forcing him to look up. “Oh, I think you do,” she said sweetly.

Fortinbras frowned, his eyes moving to Kili, standing quietly next to her. “Who’s that? One of your _dwarves_ you went tramping off with?”

She had no doubt he had a different meaning in mind when he used the word “tramping”. Kili caught it too, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. Bilba coaxed his hand open and intertwined her fingers with his. She lifted their joined hands and put them on the table, revealing the twin rings on their hands.

Calmly, she launched back into the same story she’d given in the market, complete with Kili’s title and the invitation to write Erebor for verification of their identity.

When she had finished, Fortinbras frowned up at her. “This is not the story Fram and Lobelia gave.”

“And you certainly didn’t try and find out the truth did you, Grandfather?” Bilba said, her voice still sweet and innocent.

“Regardless,” Fortinbras continued, “You are your mother’s child. You ran off without notice to join a group of strangers on a ridiculous quest.” He made a harrumph sound, “It would only have been a matter of time before…”

“Only a matter of time until what?” Kili growled.

Bilba had pulled their hands off the desk but was still gripping his and she tightened the hold now, quieting him. She had no doubt the halls behind them were filled with the Thain’s family.

“I’ll be returning to Erebor--” she started.

“--Where she’ll take up her proper title of Princess,” Kili broke in through gritted teeth.

“But until then,” Bilba cut in firmly, “I wanted to take care of something here.’ She pulled the will out and slapped it on the table in front of him. “This is my father’s will. In it you’ll notice that, in the event of his and my mother’s deaths, he left Bag End to me and Bungo. In the event of our deaths Bag End was to go to Priscilla and Seth.”

Fortinbras picked the will up and studied it, grumbling to himself.

“Bungo is dead,” Bilba said, her voice shaking only slightly, “and, as a Menace to Society, I may as well be considered dead.”

“This will--” Fortinbras began.

“Is _binding_ ,” Bilba stated firmly. “My father built Bag End for my mother with his own money. You had _nothing_ to do with it and have no right to go over my father’s wishes.” She released Kili’s hands and leaned forward, bracing herself on the desk. “And that goes for my father’s money as well. You had no right to keep it from me as long as you did and you have no right now to keep it from Priscilla and Seth.”

“You were young and irresponsible, incapable of handling your own affairs,” Fortinbras said, his voice rising. “I was merely trying to protect you.”

“You were trying to control me,” Bilba snapped, “And I was stupid enough to let you because I wanted so desperately to fit in.” She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “You _will_ announce Bag End belongs to Priscilla and Seth and you _will_ hand over the remnants of my father’s money, assuming you haven’t spent it all.”

Her grandfather’s face was turning a dark shade of purple. “And, what,” he said coldly, “do you propose to do if I refuse to your requests? You are no longer a hobbit and are certainly no granddaughter of mine. What power do you intend to back your commands with?”

Bilba smiled. She leaned forward and, as best she could, channeled Thorin. “I have been gone a long time, Grandfather,” she said, her tone deadly, “and I have made many friends. Beyond that, I am a member of the household of Durin and if you cross me you won’t answer to me. You will answer to Erebor.”

She straightened, still trying to channel Thorin from the times she remembered him doing his full King-under-the-Mountain-bow-before-me routine. He'd always been _really_ good at that routine.

Fortinbras appeared speechless, simply staring at her as though he’d never seen her before.

Bilba took the will and turned her back on him, causing her relations gathered at the door to instantly scatter in all directions. She took Kili’s arm again and walked out with her head held high.

She was shaking by the time they left but she forced herself to keep moving, heading to where Fili was seated under a tree with the babies. He got to his feet as they approached and Bilba took Frerin from him with trembling hands.

“How’d it go?” Fili asked.

“Fine,” Bilba whispered. “Let’s go.”

She started to stride away and the boys fell in alongside her.

“What if he writes to Erebor?” Kili asked as they reached the road leading back to Hobbiton.

“He won’t,” Bilba said. “The last thing he wants is for anyone to know he exiled his granddaughter and lost out on a connection to the royal family of Erebor. He won’t do anything at all.”

“Meaning Priscilla and Seth will keep Bag End by default.”

“And even if Fram and Lobelia try to press the issue they won’t be able to contest the will,” Bilba said. “I’ll make sure they put it in the safe so Fram can’t sneak in again and take it.”

“What about the money?” Kili asked. “Do you think he’ll return it?”

Bilba sighed. The revelations about Fram had opened her eyes in more ways than one and a sneaking suspicion had started to work at the back of her mind. Her grandfather’s lack of reaction to her accusing him of stealing her money only strengthened it.

“I’m not entirely sure there’s a lot of money left,” Bilba said. “But it doesn’t matter. Priscilla and Seth don’t need it.”

She’d pressed the issue because she wanted him to know that she knew and to make sure the others in the hall knew.

“By the end of the day word will have spread throughout the Shire,” she said, “Fram and Lobeliea’s reputations will be damaged, a fate worse than death for a hobbit, and I imagine my Grandfather’s will be substantially harmed as well.”

“A fact unlikely to endear him to Fram and Lobeliea,” Fili remarked.

“Exactly,” Bilba replied. She sighed. “Let’s go back to Bag End. I’ll need to pack.”

“We could stay longer,” Fili said.

“I don’t want to stay.” Bilba studied the road, watching as it unspooled ahead of her, vanishing around a curve. “I don’t belong here anymore, if I ever did.” Not to mention she’d invoked Thorin multiple times that day and her paranoia was getting the best of her. It was ridiculous of course, even if he did somehow start thinking of her simply because she’d mentioned his name he was still in Erebor, a seven month long journey from the Shire.

They arrived back in Hobbiton by early evening, the sun just beginning to slip below the horizon. Bilba saw a few hobbits along the way. A few gave her tentative nods, most continued to ignore her.

Her footsteps stumbled.

Fram was standing on the lane outside Bag End, leaning against her gate.

Fili snarled something behind her and Kili stepped closer to her.

As they neared Fram pushed off the gate, an easy smile on his face. “Bilba!” He called out happily, “I’d heard you were back. I’m sorry I missed you. You should have come by and said hello.”

Bilba stared at him. “Fram,” she said finally, coldly, “why would I come see you after you had me declared a Menace to Society?”

“What?” Fram put his hands up, “Bilba, you have to believe me, it’s all a misunderstanding! I was misled by Lobelia. She was saying all sorts of things and--” Here he stepped forward and made as though he were going to try and grab her hand. She sidestepped him and Kili was suddenly there, standing between the two of them. Fram sighed, looking down and shoving his hands in his pockets. “I understand,” he said, “I do.” He looked up at her again, his face sincere, “What I did was wrong, Bilba. I should have believed in you, in us. I was just,” he took a deep breath, “I got your letter and – well – it hurt, Bilba. Deeply. I--” He hesitated, then looked her in the eyes, his expression earnest, “I love you Bilba, then and now and when you sent that letter and I thought you’d moved on, well, I was hurt and I was stupid and lashed out but now--” His eyes flickered toward Kili and then away again. “I mean – it’s not true, right? You didn’t really marry a…dwarf, right?” His eyes went to Frerin and Ash. “I can forgive you, Bilba. I know it was a long time on the road and you probably missed me. I can forgive you and we can start over. I know--”

Fili and Kili were seething by this point, their bodies nearly vibrating with the effort to hold still and not upset what Bilba had spent the day fixing. Bilba, meanwhile, had glanced down the road. The way was clear in both directions. Almost everyone had gone inside and, even if they were to look out, it was dark enough that it was unlikely they could make out who exactly was on the road.

Bilba very carefully transferred Frerin over to Kili. She then very calmly turned, drew her arm back, and punched Fram as hard as she could.

Her fist impacted Fram’s face with a resounding crunch and she felt his nose give way. His entire head snapped to one side, his body following suit and he collapsed onto his backside.

Bilba shook her hand out with a grimace, her knuckles stinging, and grinned at Fili. “Did you see that? I remembered to keep my thumb out of the way and everything.”

“Well done,” Fili replied, looking pleased. ‘Though next time remember to throw from your hip, really put your entire body behind it.”

Bilba nodded, taking her son from him as she did.

On the ground, Fram was holding his nose, blood gushing out of it. He looked at her as though he’d never seen her before. “You hit me!” He shouted. “I can’t believe you hit me!” He started to scramble to his feet, face red with fury. “You little slu--”

The point of Fili’s sword was suddenly resting in the hollow of his throat and he came to a stammering stop. “I really wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” Fili said coldly. “Leave, now before I end up doing something I won’t regret.”

Fram muttered something unintelligible and staggered away, wobbling on his feet.

“Think he’ll tell everyone he got his nose broken by a girl?” Kili asked.

“Let him,” Bilba said with a grin. “No one will believe him, not anymore.”

She opened her gate and started up the steps to Bag End. A moment later Fili was opening the door for her to go inside.

She entered and he and Kili followed behind her.

The door shut behind them, leaving a quiet, darkened yard and road. Crickets chirped in the grass and a gentle breeze rustled the grass.

In the window of Bag End a soft light glowed and smoke wafted up lazily from the chimney.

A peaceful and quiet night.

Miles away, in the far south of the Shire the river burbled merrily over rocks. The river was wide and incredibly deep, used only by the animals or the occasional adventurous Took.

The border where the river crossed the borders of the Shire, becoming the Baranduin instead of the Brandywine, was marked by a series of large, flat stones. The stones formed one of the only natural crossings in the area for anyone wanting to get to the Shire from that area without having to go miles out of their way.

The stones were so well known and used, in fact, that they had a name, Sarn Ford and it was here the Rangers had a garrison set up to protect the borders of the Shire.

It was incredibly rare that anything more dangerous than the occasional wolf or bandit challenged them and, as such, the Rangers were mostly asleep or engaged in card games. Many weren’t there at all, having chosen to go off on circuits early or even leaving simply to visit Bree for the night.

When the first hoof beats were heard pounding on the road many passed it off as a few of their kinsmen returning. After all, who would be fool enough to charge them head on without even an attempt at subterfuge?

It was only as the beats began to draw closer and separate into two distinct sets, then three, then four, that they began to realize the danger they were in.

Tables were overthrown and bedding tossed aside as they scrambled to arm themselves and get into position on the road.

The Rangers formed a blockade of flesh and bone, standing between the outside world and the Shire. For four hundred years they had kept watch over the hobbits. Their grandfathers and fathers before them had kept guard faithfully and they, their descendants , would not be the ones to fail before a group of what were probably drunk bandits out to raid easy prey.

They would prevail as they always did and continue the tradition, passing the mantle to their sons and daughters, their grandchildren and great-grandchildren after that for hundreds years more, and longer.

The first sight of the approaching riders was the glint of the moon off the silver tack of the horses.

The second was the eyes of the horses, unnaturally red and gleaming in the dark. Their backs at first glance appeared to be empty but, as they drew nearer still, they caught glimpse of silhouettes, robed entirely in black, sitting astride the creatures.

Nine black riders in total, clothed entirely in black, upon nine black steeds. They rode like an arrow pointed at the garrison, the one at the head the largest and wearing a steel circlet upon his cowl.

Several of the Rangers shifted and murmured to themselves but their commander calmed them and called them to order once more.

He said they would stand.

He said they would triumph.

 

He was wrong.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for those who haven't read the book (or Appendices in this case I believe, if I remember correctly) - the attack by the Nazgul on the Rangers at Sarn Ford is canon. The arrival of the Nazgul in the Shire is a MUCH bigger deal in the book than it is in the movie. The Rangers are pretty much wiped out and the hobbits of the shire are called to arms to protect the Shire from invasion (though I don't believe they actually fight any of the Nazgul).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been SO. EXCITED about this chapter! SO EXCITED!!!! :D :D :D :D :D :D: D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D I hope you enjoy!! :D :D
> 
> Sidenote: Lady Juno and I have co-written a Fix It for BOFA titled "Once More" that can now be found on both our profiles if you are interested. It's a straight Fix It from the movie where everyone gets to be not dead at the end and Fili actually gets to do some fighting! :D

Bilba settled back in the armchair, clutching her small sketchpad and pencil, and idly watched the handful of other patrons wandering the dining room of the Prancing Pony. This late at night, or early she supposed by now, the only ones up had either just arrived or couldn’t sleep.

Bilba belonged in both categories. After they’d gotten back to Bag End she’d returned Fili’s ring and then marched into her room and changed into trousers, rolled up to just below her knee and a light blouse. After that she'd returned to the living room to find Fili had gone to retrieve the ponies they’d rented from Bree. Kili had pulled her down so he could re-braid her hair and she’d used the time to fill in Seth, Priscilla and Adalgrim on what had happened.

Seth and Priscilla approved of what she'd done. Adalgrim, she could see, did not. He had always been a firm believer in respectability and did not react well to others stepping out of line. She could remember many a time when, as children, she’d wanted to climb a tree or run off to visit the Old Forest only to have Adalgrim dragging her back, insisting they’d get in trouble.

She'd been safer when she had Adalgrim to pull her back, Bilba noted. Far safer, but not nearly as happy.

Priscilla and Seth had tried to convince her to stay the night at least, if not a few days. Bilba had refused. She didn’t want to deal with uncomfortable whispers and stares or having to pretend she was still the same Bilba who’d left all those months earlier.

More than that, however, she didn’t want to risk staying so long she ended up changing her mind.

She sighed and shifted in the chair, angling more toward the fire crackling in the fireplace. The steady heat partly eased the dull ache of fatigue that had settled into her bones. It had been just after dusk that they’d left; promising to write once they’d made it to Rivendell. They had arrived in Bree sometime after midnight.

There had only been one dwarf/hobbit sized room left so they’d taken it, using the funds Priscilla had insisted she take, and gone on up. Fili and Kili had slept on the floor while Bilba tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep in the bed. There was no crib to be had so the babies slept between Fili and Kili, on a mound of blankets.

She’d realized fairly quickly she wouldn’t be getting any sleep which had led to her quietly getting up, reassuring Fili when he gave a half asleep, mumbled inquiry, and heading down to the main room where she currently sat nursing a half cooled cup of hot chocolate and trying to draw in her new sketchpad. She’d started up again while she recovered, and then spent the winter, in Rivendell. She’d made dozens of drawings of the twins and Fili and Kili and anything else she could think of.

The lanterns were dimmed, casting the room in heavy shadow and creating gorgeous contrasts. She wanted to draw, she did, even just an outline of the room with the flickering lights and weary customers.

Focusing was harder than she’d thought it would be. She, Fili and Kili had stayed at a different Inn on their way through to the Shire so this was the first time she’d been back to the Pony since passing through with the entire Company. As much as she tried now to look anywhere else, her eyes continued to be drawn to the table in the corner where she and Thorin had sat and shared dinner back when they first set out on the quest to reclaim Erebor.

A sense of melancholy draped over her, as it was prone to do when faced with memories like that. Good memories, now forever tainted by how things had ended.

The sound of the door opening caught her attention and she turned to watch as two figures in heavy traveling cloaks and hoods strode in. A burst of cool air followed them and she shivered, drawing back farther into the chair. The two were short and broad shouldered, most likely dwarves from the Blue Mountains on their way to Erebor. She and the boys had passed a number of them on their way to the Shire and even heading back to Bree as late as it had been.

They moved further in looking for the clerk to try and find rooms. They’d have to take human sized rooms or simply sleep at a table since Bilba and the boys had taken the last smaller sized one. For a fleeting second she considered offering to share the room with them but dismissed it almost immediately, not wanting to disturb Ash and Frerin. The last thing she wanted was sleep deprived babies on her hands.

She shook her head at herself at how easily the thought had passed through her. The last time she’d been here she’d been cowering in fear at a pair of strangers who’d tried to harass her. Now here she was in the room alone considering offering the use of her room to two weary travelers. Granted that room held two fully trained, and armed, dwarves but still.

She yawned, her body finally deciding it might consider sleep after all. She shifted long enough to set her sketchpad down next to her hot chocolate and settled deeper into the chair, pulling her legs up under her.

She must have fallen asleep entirely because the next thing she knew hands were shaking her and a voice was frantically calling her name. She opened her eyes, jumping up straight in her chair as adrenaline coursed through her and found herself looking at Seth, Priscilla, Adalgrim and, of all people, Aragorn and Glorfindel.

The last two were standing several feet away, swords drawn and eyes on the door. The few other patrons in the room were already clearing, wanting nothing to do with whatever was coming. As Bilba woke up she realized that Seth, Priscilla and Adalgrim were mud and grass stained, their hair and clothing disheveled. A look through the window showed darkness still hung heavy outside. How in the world had they gotten to Bree so fast?

Bilba’s heart leapt into her throat. “Why are you all here? What’s going on?”

Priscilla grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the chair. “There’s no time to explain. They’re right behind us. We have to go, now.”

“Who?” Bilba said, jerking her arm free. “Who’s right behind us?”

“Black riders,” Aragorn answered, “We saw them pass Rivendell and gave chase but they had to great a lead.”

Bilba blinked, her breath catching in her throat. “Black riders,” she whispered, unbelieving. “But…I don’t understand. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Glorfindel stated. “We were wrong.”

Bilba swayed, reaching a hand out to grab at the arm of the recliner. She had told Glorfindel about Azog’s claim that the Witch King had wanted to see her, Fili and Kili. The fact that he’d ignored Fili and Kili entirely and thrown her over a cliff almost immediately, however, had convinced them it had simply been a mistake of some sort.

She’d really, really hoped it had been some sort of mistake.

“They arrived an hour or two after you left,” Priscilla was saying, “They came up through the South Farthing, using the pass through Sarn Ford.”

“There’s a Ranger garrison there,” Bilba whispered. “They would have stopped them.”

“They tried,” Aragorn said shortly. The look he gave her was grim and Bilba felt her heart fall.

“Word was sent to Buckland,” Seth continued, “and the Horn-call was sounded. We went out to see what was happening and, while we were out, those…things appeared and entered Bag End.”

Adalgrim was staring at her, his eyes wide and horrified. “We ran and met the man and elf on the road.” He studied her, his face pale. “What did you bring home with you, Bilba?”

Bilba flinched. Glorfindel spun around to face her. “We need to go, Bilba, _now_. Where are your sons?”

Bilba shook her head and pushed past him, running for the stairs. She didn’t understand. Why? Why were they after her? The Witch King had already had her and thrown her away, literally. Why? How had they even found her?

_Why?_

She burst through the door of the room. Fili and Kili were up instantly, weapons in their hands. She shoved past them and fell to her knees so hard she felt the rough wood tear at her skin.

“We have to go,” she said, her hands shaking as she wrapped the babies in blankets and reached for her own weapons. It occurred to her she’d left her sketchpad downstairs but put it out of her mind. There was no time to get it.

Fili and Kili were already scrambling to grab their own things, only the bare essentials. “What’s going on?”

“There are Nazgul coming,” Bilba said. She picked up Frerin, cradling him close for a moment before handing him to Kili.

Fili had frozen. She saw the same questions running across his face that she’d had.

Glorfindel appeared in the doorway. “They’ve been spotted. They’ll be here in minutes. Move!”

Bilba dropped the bag she’d been trying to pack and grabbed Ashrin, clutching him close as she jumped up to run.

Together they made their way back downstairs, feet clattering on the steps. A few other doors opened as people heard the noise and wondered what was going on. None of them stopped to explain.

Aragorn had the door open, staring into the darkness. Priscilla was standing with Seth, holding his arm while Adalgrim stood a few feet away, his face drawn. Bilba felt a pang of guilt for having dragged them into danger, unwitting or not, but had no time to apologize.

They ran into the darkness. Bilba felt the cold dirt of Bree’s main road against her bare feet as they headed for the gate leading into the Wild.

An unearthly shriek sounded from somewhere behind them and Bilba bit back a moan of fear.

Glorfindel wrenched back the bar on the gate and threw it open. They ran out into the darkness, spreading into a line as they raced for the trees where they might find some cover.

As she ran Bilba saw Glorfindel stop and turn, his sword raised. Aragorn joined him. He’d apparently grabbed the torch that had been in a sconce at the gate and held it up before him like a club.

Bilba risked a glance back toward Bree and felt her heart jump at the sight of horses racing through the gate. The figures riding them were little more than shadow but the one leading…the one at the front…

_A gloved hand, somehow colder than ice, closed around her throat and wrenched her right off her feet._

Bilba swallowed; the feel of phantom fingers tight around her neck.

Wrenching around she bolted for the trees. The others had already vanished into them and she sent up a silent prayer, particularly for Kili who had Frerin.

She passed under the canopy.

The moon didn’t cut easily through the thick foliage, casting the area in heavy shadow. Bilba was forced to slow down; terrified she’d run into a tree or trip over a rock while holding Ashrin. He, in turn, was being remarkably well behaved, still half asleep, exhausted after the long trip by pony to Bree.

She saw no sign of anyone else and didn’t dare call out for them. The only sound was her own breathing, harsh and ragged in her ears.

She kept walking, unsure of where she was even going or how far she’d already gone.

Something rustled in the undergrowth near her and Bilba jerked instinctively, whirling to face it and stepping back.

She put her foot down…and found nothing but air.

A second later she was rolling down a steep embankment, leaves and rocks tearing at her skin and clothing, each blow jarring. She hit the bottom with a heavy thud, the force knocking the air from her lungs and leaving her gasping for breath.

She was no longer holding Ashrin.

She was up instantly, pain sparking from a million small injuries, her lungs still tight.

She didn't care.

“Ashrin? Ashrin?” She scrambled, moving her hands about on the ground, desperately searching for him. “Ashrin!” She couldn't hear him. He wasn't crying. Why wasn't he crying? Tears burned in her eyes as she started crawling. Where was he? “No,” she begged, “Please, please, no. ASHRIN!!” She screamed his name, once and then again. Let the Nazgul find her. It didn't matter. Only finding her son did. A horrific image came into her mind, his tiny body on the ground of a massive forest, injured, scared and wondering why his mother had left him alone. Bilba let out a sob, her movements growing increasingly frantic as she tried to find him in the dark.

A cry broke out. Bilba’s head snapped up. “Ashrin? Where are you? Ashrin!!”

He couldn’t answer her of course. He just continued to wail. She recognized that wail, it was the same one he'd given when his brother had accidentally hit him with a toy he'd been flailing about. She could still remember watching as his face slowly scrunched up and he opened his mouth, seeming to draw in breath forever before finally letting it out in a wail that let all of Rivendell know his displeasure.

Now he was letting her know where he was. The sound was coming from above her. “Ashrin!” She started to climb. Her body screamed at her, burning pain from what felt like a thousand scrapes and cuts. Other areas ached, promising deep bruising. The embankment was steep and she struggled to find branches tufts of grass, and other things to help pull herself up. Several times the root or outcropping she grabbed gave way in her hand, sending her sliding back until she could get her grip again. The dirt was loose as well, making it doubly hard to pull herself up.

She kept going, kept talking to her son. “It’s alright, baby. It’s okay. I’m coming. I’m coming.”

Ashrin's crying lessened, turning into hiccupping sobs. He sounded right above her. She was close, so very close. The sky had begun to lighten as she’d climbed, the promise of dawn finally approaching. The edge was only a few feet away.

She was exhausted, her breath coming in desperate heaves, her legs shaking and ready to give out on her.

She shoved, pushing up, and started in surprise as a hand suddenly appeared in front of her face, fingers extended to take her hand.

“Here,” A voice said over her head, “Let me help you.”

Bilba nodded, her mind still focused on her son, and grabbed the offered hand. It was about two seconds after, when the much larger hand had enveloped hers in a grip of iron, that her fatigued brain caught up with her body and noted the ring on the hand she’d just grabbed. It was a ring she recognized.

She’d worn it once, on a chain around her neck, along with the ring she currently wore from the goblin caves.

Her world slowed to a crawl as horror so deep it was nearly incomprehensible settled into her very bones.

She raised her head slowly, praying to every Valar and Eru Himself as she did that she was wrong, please, please, please let her be wrong.

Boots, legs clad in black pants, black shirt, chain mail vest and a leather overcoat that looked hauntingly familiar to another one she'd once seen. She didn’t recognize the clothing but that meant little.

She knew that ring.

Her eyes stopped on the other arm, not because of the gauntlet bearing a crest she’d seen just that morning engraved on Fili’s ring, but because Ashrin was there, his tiny body nearly swallowed up by the arm holding him.

Bilba tightened her grip and pulled. The hand holding hers pulled as well and then she was back where she’d started before she’d managed to stumble over the edge.

She leapt forward and nearly wrenched Ashrin out of his arms, sinking to the ground and settling him on her lap. She unwrapped the blankets with shaking hands to check him, leaving streaks of blood and mud on the fabric from where she'd shredded her fingers in the climb. Ashrin’s face was blotchy from crying, his expression still distressed and he was giving small, hiccupping sobs but, as she ran her fingers over his body and along his ribs, she saw no sign of pain, felt no injury beneath her fingers.

“I think he’s fine,” a deep baritone spoke over her head. “You must have dropped him on the edge before you went over, the blankets protected him.”

Bilba carefully wrapped her son up again, then picked him up and held him close. Relief came over her in a wave so strong she spontaneously burst into tears, rocking back and forth as she hugged him. The voice didn’t speak again and she shut her eyes, desperately praying she’d been hit in the head and was now hallucinating, not that she had her son and he was well of course, but that anyone else was present.

She reopened her eyes.

There were still boots there, standing just in front of her.

Bilba took a deep breath, still clutching her son and raised her head.

Dark hair with a natural wave framed a chiseled face and short, neatly trimmed beard. Blue eyes, narrowed in concern were fixed on her and Bilba shivered at the intensity in them.

Trying to force down the sheer terror currently welling up in her, Bilba raised her chin and tried her best to look defiant.

“So, Thorin,” she said, her voice wavering only slightly, “what happened to we shall not speak again?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is wearing his outfit from BOFA.
> 
> This: http://38.media.tumblr.com/cad87aec36143fd3827dbe8f0dd0cf4c/tumblr_nf7absP8h91tj7qy8o1_500.jpg


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a companion chapter to the last one. It's from Thorin's POV and will let you get a look into what's been going on with him since the end of Part One. My beta, after reading it, said it reminded her of why she loved Thorin even though he'd acted like a prat. Hopefully you will have the same reaction. :)

He’d thought he was dreaming when he saw her in Bree.

He’d expected to see her the next day, had spent the last seven months of the journey from Erebor preparing what he would say to her and his nephews when he did.

Then he’d walked into the Prancing Pony, ready to fall over from exhaustion, glanced blearily around the half lit room…and there she’d been.

It was testament to his fatigue that it’d taken him a few moments to recognize her.

That and the fact his memory had not done her justice.

She’d been curled up in a chair by the fireplace, balancing a sketchpad in one hand and a cup in the other. Her figure was slimmer than he remembered, her hair pulled over her shoulder in an elaborate braid that could only speak to the efforts of one, if not both, of his nephews. In the flickering firelight he couldn’t see the braids clear enough to identify them but could guess at their meaning well enough.

She’d given him an idle glance, one that showed no recognition, and then had dismissed him.

He’d opened his mouth and the words he’d spent so many months perfecting had utterly failed him.

Dwalin had grabbed the back of his traveling cloak, shoved him forward and, the next thing he knew, he was standing in an oversized room with two man sized beds watching Dwalin shrug his pack off with a grimace that spoke to long overtaxed muscles.

Thorin shook his head and stepped toward the door, “I need to--”

He broke off as Dwalin was suddenly standing in front of him, glowering in a way that suggested he was far tired too put up with his sovereign’s crap.

“You’re exhausted,” he stated, “You go tramping down there you’re as likely to collapse on her as talk to her. You really want to get all this way and then screw it up right at the end?”

He had a point. Thorin hated it when he had a point. “What if she’s gone in the morning?”

Dwalin shrugged. “Doubt she’s heading off first thing after being up this late. She won’t get far.”

“Why is she even here?”

Dwalin gave him a look that, considering Thorin’s rank, was downright rude.

Actually, it was downright rude regardless of Thorin’s rank.

“I’ve been with you the whole time. Why do you suddenly think I know things you don’t?”

Thorin ignored him.

After that there was little to be done aside from cleaning up as best they could and going to bed. Thorin got his pack and cloak off and then shrugged off his coat and chain mail. He pulled his boots off, briefly considered putting them back off after the smell hit him, and then set his weapons in a corner.

Dwalin, who’d had a head start, was already collapsed across one of the beds, snoring loudly, so Thorin sat on the edge of the other bed, next to the window, and stared out at the empty street below, trying not to think of the young woman in the main room just below.

It was difficult, as she and his nephews had been all he’d thought about since waking up in the Healing Tents at the base of Erebor.

The first word he’d spoken had been Bilba’s name, near pleading to find out her fate.

He’d been told she was gone and had nearly fallen into despair before the elf, whose name he could no longer recall, had taken some measure of mercy on him and informed him she’d headed to Mirkwood with Thranduil and the Men.

The relief had been profound and greater still when he’d learned his nephews had both lived as well and were only feet away.

He’d tried to speak to them as soon as he could but the boys had refused to see him, going so far as to move to another tent to avoid him.

He’d come down sick soon after and then Dain had been there and the Men had returned wanting their share of the treasure for Dale and Thranduil had sent his own group demanding something or other and they’d had to clean up thousands of dead before the ground became contaminated from the rot and a massive decaying dragon corpse had made Erebor near unlivable and Balin wanted to go over policies while Dwalin wanted to go over reconstruction and then there was the coronation and the next time he’d had half a minute to himself he’d looked around and found his nephews, and his One, were long, long gone.

No would speak to him of where, or even when exactly. Bard leveled looks on him that suggested he wished Thorin would summarily drop dead and Thranduil simply gave vaguely mocking replies that told him nothing. It was clear where the loyalties of both lay and Thorin could not fault them for it.

Bilba and his nephews deserved their loyalty.

They had deserved his as well.

Eventually he’d broken down enough to ask Nori, who’d gone and done investigating of his own. The dwarf had returned ultimately to inform him that, as far as he could find, she’d returned to the Shire with a large group, including his nephews, protecting her.

He couldn’t go after her. Getting Erebor sorted demanded his every second and he couldn’t leave with her still so unstable, with winter approaching and her stores non-existent, large holes caused by the dragon allowing snow and ice to make its way in.

He tried writing, letter after letter after letter, addressed to Fili, to Kili, to her. Dozens upon dozens of them explaining, apologizing, making excuses. Pages full of hollow, empty words as far as he was concerned, all of which had ended up burning in his fireplace by the end of the day.

What he had to say, what she and his nephews deserved to hear, could not be said in a letter.

It was possible things would have stayed as they were if it hadn’t been for the arrival of his sister. He’d found out Dain had sent word to the Blue Mountains while he’d still been recovering.

He’d told Dain the truth, all of it. Dain had replied by calling him a damn fool and then had hugged him and stated, “You’re lucky I love you, you idiot, or else I’d probably have to gut you like swine for treating them like you did.”

As it was, he’d gotten his revenge by failing to mention Fili and Kili’s absence in his letter, stating it was something he figured Thorin should have to explain in person.

Thorin had very nearly not survived that particular encounter.

Dis had arrived with joy, expecting to see her brother and sons standing at the gates of their reclaimed kingdom waiting to welcome her with open arms.

When all she’d seen was her brother and when she’d found where her sons had gone, and why, it had not gone over well.

None of his excuses moved her. She was a princess, a member of the direct bloodline of Durin in her own right. She’d ruled the Blue Mountains in his absence and was more than capable doing the same in Erebor while he went off to fetch her sons and this One she’d been hearing so much about since her arrival.

It had not been a suggestion.

And, just like that, he found himself on the road, Balin, Dis and a large gathering of dwarves from the Blue Mountains and the Iron Hills waving him on his way. He had no idea how Dis explained his sudden sojourn or how she worked it so that no one questioned or tried to stop him.

He didn’t dare ask.

The entire affair had been such a whirlwind, so surreal in fact; that it’d been nearly thirty minutes later before he’d realized Dwalin had come with him.

The other dwarf had simply sighed in irritation and stated he had to come if only to make sure Thorin didn’t end up in Gondor rather than the Shire.

And so they’d spent months in one another’s company, traveling light, through the second winter since Erebor had been reclaimed, passing by Rivendell as the first days of spring dawned.

He and Dwalin had talked a lot during their trip. They had spoken of the quest and how it had ended, of the loss of Gandalf and how the world would forever be darkened by his passing. They spoke of Mordor and its troubling silence since it had sent an army to Erebor, for reasons still unknown.

They had spoken of Bilba and his nephews and what each might say when finally they met again.

And then, after it started to feel like their fate was simply to travel forever, they’d arrived in Bree, headed to the Prancing Pony after finding the other inns were full…and Thorin had found himself staring at his One for the first time in nearly a year and a half.

And then he’d frozen and Dwalin had dragged him to his room where Thorin sat on the edge of his bed and waited for morning so he could try and speak to her.

Hopefully, by then, he would have found his tongue again and the words he’d spent so long practicing.

He’d still been sitting there some time later when he’d seen movement on the street. To his surprise the elf he remembered from Thranduil’s realm, a human he didn’t recognize and three hobbits came running down the street and vanished into the Inn below him.

Without understanding fully why he did it, Thorin rose and began pulling his boots back on, barking an order at Dwalin that had the other dwarf up instantly, one hand going to his axe where he’d laid it on the bed next to him. “What is it?”

“I don’t know yet,” Thorin said, standing to grab his chain mail and weapons.

Commotion broke out suddenly, the sound of voices yelling and feet thundering on the stairs. Thorin threw on his coat and strode to the door, jerking it open. He made it to the top of the stairs just in time to catch the flash of the blond elf running through the door. A look toward the fireplace showed the chair was empty, though a sketchpad lay discarded on the table.

Thorin headed downstairs, pushing past several other patrons out of their rooms and looking worried, and retrieved the pad, shoving it into a long pocket cut into the inner lining of his coat.

“What happened?” He ordered a nearby hobbit. The hobbit; dressed in sleep clothes and looking more than a little confused, frowned at him.

“Bunch of ruffians no doubt,” he said, “though why hobbits should be involved is beyond me.” He huffed in annoyance, pulling the sash closed on his robes. “Don’t know what this younger crowd is coming to nowadays. Entirely unrespectable!”

Thorin turned away, dismissing him and headed for the door. Dwalin came up behind him and followed him onto the street.

“There.”

Thorin followed Dwalin’s arm and caught a sight of a group running for the other end of the town.

“Looks like they’re running from something.”

Thorin looked toward the opposite side which, for the moment, stood clear. “So it does. We should probably get out of the way before whatever it is catches up.”

They had moved off the main road only moments before the thundering of hooves had sounded down the road and had crouched in mutual horror as Nazgul thundered past.

Thorin had a horrible flashback to the moment during battle when he’d seen one of the creatures standing over the bodies of his nephews, holding Bilba out over the edge of the Spires.

Dropping her.

“I don’t get it,” Dwalin growled. “What are those things here for?”

Thorin didn’t answer. He’d already drawn his sword and in one, lithe movement, sprang up and ran down the road. Dwalin said something unflattering behind him but joined him a moment later.

By the time they reached the gate and charged through the area beyond was empty, completely.

“What in the name of Durin?” Dwalin said. “Where’d they go?”

Thorin found his eyes drawn to a large forest some yards from the gates. “Most likely there. They probably hoped to lose them under the trees.”

Dwalin nodded and they ran for the trees. Thorin could feel his heartrate increasing, his hand white knuckled on the hilt of his sword.

Of all the possible outcomes he’d expected of this trip, this had not been one of them.

Why were the riders here? Who were they after?

Why?

“Do you see any sign of them?” He hissed at Dwalin. The other shook his head, irritation in his eyes. He didn’t like the thought of Bilba and the boys endangered while they wandered uselessly in the woods any better than Thorin did.

A scream suddenly ripped through the woods.

Bilba. A second scream followed, agonized, despairing.

Thorin started running, focused on her voice. She sounded like she was calling a name but she was so distraught he couldn’t make out who it was. His heart clenched in his chest, images of his nephews crumpled and broken flashing through his mind.

A baby started crying.

The sound was so at odds with anything he’d expected to hear that Thorin stumbled and very nearly managed to run into a tree.

So much for the dwarven ability to see in the dark.

His hesitation only lasted an instant before he was moving again. The baby sounded as upset as Bilba did and he wasn’t going to stand back while his One and an innocent child were threatened.

He burst around the trunk of a particularly large tree, the roots breaking through the ground and crawling along the underbrush, and caught sight of a small form on the ground. Sheathing his sword, he moved forward and knelt.

A small baby, swaddled in a thick mound of blankets. The baby’s mouth was wide as he, or she, wailed; eyes squeezed shut and tiny hands clenched into fists.

Thorin picked the baby up, carefully setting the small bundle in the crook of one arm. A voice, only feet away spoke up suddenly and he twisted in surprise, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of a steep dropoff mere inches away.

He stepped forward and looked over to see Bilba a few feet down, clutching at various bits of dirt and grass as she struggled to pull herself up. What had happened was obvious and Thorin sent a silent prayer of gratitude to Mahal. The fall must have been steep. Had she taken the baby down with her the small being could have been badly injured.

Thorin set himself and leaned forward, reaching a hand out to her. “Here, let me help you.”

She grabbed his hand and a few moments later he had her back up on the ledge.

The baby was gone from his arm so quickly that, for a second, he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened.

Then he saw her seated in front of him, the baby on her lap as she frantically checked for injuries.

It was still dark enough he couldn’t make out many of the baby's features, dwarven eyesight wasn’t perfect in the dark any more than standard eyesight was perfect in the daylight after all, and wondered again where the baby had come from. She hadn’t had one in the Inn when he’d seen her. He considered the hobbits he’d seen run in from off the street. Had one of them had a child?

She’d unwrapped the baby entirely and now Thorin could at least see the baby appeared to be a little boy, dressed in a small green and gold jumper, a tiny blue stuffed toy sewn to a strap attached to his pants.

“I think he’s fine,” Thorin said hesitantly, watching her fingers run over the baby’s arms, legs, chest and head. “You must have dropped him on the edge when you went over, the blankets protected him.”

She gave no sign of having heard him but had apparently come to the same conclusion. She wrapped the baby up again, pulled him in close, and promptly burst into tears, rocking back and forth as she held the small bundle.

Thorin stood helplessly, trying to figure out what, if anything, he should do.

Eventually she calmed and her eyes, which had been closed, opened. He saw her take a deep breath and lift her head to look at him.

Thorin had known not to expect warmth or any kind of greeting but, still, the depth of anger and defiance in her eyes was like a blow to the gut.

“So, Thorin,” she said, her voice cold and clipped, “what happened to we shall not speak again?”

Thorin swallowed, suppressing a flinch at the words he’d once flung at her.

Footsteps heralded the arrival of Dwalin who’d finally managed to catch up to them. He came up behind Bilba, towering over her where she sat on the ground. She pulled the baby against her and moved the blanket so that it hid him completely from view.

Dwalin frowned in confusion. “Who’s the kid?”

“None of your business,” Bilba snapped. She got to her feet, dodging them both when they tried to assist her and stepped back, holding the baby tight with both arms. She was a mess, her clothing ripped and mud spattered, blood streaking her skin from scratches and cuts, several areas already darkening with the promise of impressive bruising.

She had to be in pain but didn’t seem to notice, her only concern for the child.

A niggling suspicion started at the back of Thorin’s mind but, before he could voice it, an unearthly shriek rang out, echoing through the forest.

Bilba gasped, her eyes widening. The sound of hoof beats vibrated from nearby and she stepped away with a small whimper. The movement nearly sent her over a root from a nearby tree and Thorin realized it hadn’t gotten light enough for her to see well.

Certainly not light enough for her to flee on her own.

He jumped forward and grabbed her arm. “This way,” he ordered, leaving her no room to resist him. “It’s almost here!”

She obeyed him, out of necessity he was sure, turning to follow the way he pulled her. Dwalin drew up on her other side, both his axes out though Thorin doubted they’d be much good against an agent of Sauron.

He broke into a run, bringing her along with him as best he could. On his right the embankment she’d fallen down began to slope down toward the forest floor before and an idea started to form.

He jumped over the edge when the distance between where they were and where the lower floor was only a few feet apart. Dwalin unceremoniously put his hands under Bilba’s arms and lifted her and the baby down. Thorin caught her around the waist and set her feet on the ground, then promptly put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her down. The embankment had crumbled a bit in that area, creating a small alcove that led a few feet into the hillside.

Bilba sat and scooted under it, quickly lost to shadow. Thorin joined her while Dwalin settled on her other side.

It wasn’t much cover but it was all they had. As long as the Nazgul stayed on the top of the embankment, and the sun didn’t rise much further than it already had.

Bilba rocked the baby gently, absently pulling her braid over one shoulder. Thorin saw tiny, chubby hands emerge from the blanket and grab the end, pulling the hair inside the blanket to play with.

This close he could see the braids clearer and, as expected, they identified her as a member of the House of Durin. He wondered if she truly understood the gravity of the braids she wore. As much as they bound her hair they were _binding_ on the dwarves who’d put them there, on the entire bloodline in fact if they had any honor.

It didn’t matter if she wore them or not. She could remove them and completely reject his nephews and they would still be every bit as bound by them. The promise of protection offered by the braids was implicit upon his nephews and their actions, not hers.

Hoof beats clopped along the dirt over their heads and they all froze. Bilba’s head jerked up, staring wide eyed at the underside of the dirt.

She swallowed and he wondered if she was remembering the last time she’d encountered one of them.

He saw it every time he closed his eyes.

Armored feet hit the dirt with a thump and Bilba went pale. She was breathing hard and shivering. Thorin reached out to put a hand on her arm. It was cold to the touch and she flinched, her eyes darting to his.

Thorin held her eyes for a moment, trying to reassure her, then turned his attention up again. He slid his other hand to the hilt of his sword, wrapping his fingers around the metal slowly.

In Bilba’s arms the baby seemed content to stay quiet for the moment and Thorin prayed it held out. The infant was tiny, a newborn if he had to guess and he couldn’t imagine so small and innocent a creature at the mercy of a servant of Sauron.

A loud noise sounded somewhere off to their left and Bilba jumped, her eyes darting in that direction.

Movement came from above them; rapid footsteps and then the shrill sound of the horse as its rider mounted and forced it in the direction the sound had come from.

Booted feet were rushing down the bank and, suddenly, just like that, his nephews were there. Both had their weapons drawn, Kili with an arrow nocked to his bow and Thorin had an idea of what had drawn the Nazgul away.

Fili stepped forward and knelt, his hand out. He didn’t so much as acknowledge Thorin or Dwalin were there.

“Let’s go, before those things come back.”

Bilba nodded and grabbed his hand, allowing him to draw her out. She stood and immediately went to Kili’s side, speaking to him quietly. Kili shifted, standing close to her, his eyes fixed on her face as she spoke. Thorin heard her voice lift in a question and Kili answered his own voice too low for Thorin to hear.

Relief crossed Bilba’s face and Kili gave her an affectionate grin. He released his grip on the arrow long enough to reach down and gently touch the head of the baby in her arms. Thorin caught a glimpse of coal black hair and a strange sensation settled in his gut. He looked again at his dark haired nephew, standing protectively over Bilba while she held a small, dark haired baby in her arms, the way she’d bypassed Fili and gone straight to Kili without hesitation, the way even now Fili was backing up in a protective stance over both of them.

“We need to go,” he said, catching Bilba’s attention. “The others are waiting.”

Bilba nodded. She looked tired, a fact Kili apparently caught as he put his weapons away and carefully took the baby from her. She allowed it without complaint and turned her back to him to listen to Fili as he spoke to her a moment.

Thorin pushed to his feet as they moved away, following them. Fili shot an annoyed look over his shoulder but seemed more concerned with getting them away from the Nazgul than with the sudden appearance of his uncle.

As he should be. The boy was a natural born leader, always had been.

It was only now that Thorin found himself wondering if he’d ever told Fili that or if he’d just assumed the boy knew.

They left the forest a few minutes later, the sun now well in the sky. A short distance away, Thorin caught sight of a small group waiting. The elf and human again, plus the three hobbits he remembered seeing. The female appeared to be holding a small bundle. Bilba gave a cry and took off running, leaving Kili and the baby coming along behind.

As Thorin watched she reached the other woman, took the bundle from her and sank to the ground, her arms wrapped around it.

No, he realized, not it, the bundle was another baby.

Thorin found his steps slowing as Kili reached them and knelt to allow her to take the other baby. She cradled both protectively, giving his nephew a look of pure adoration as she did so.

Thorin felt his heart wrench in his chest and his footsteps slowed. Beside him, Dwalin sighed and said, “Well, that’s not something I expected, though I can’t say it’s a surprise now that I think about it. They always were close.”

Close, Thorin thought. He’d been close but had cast her aside, cast them all aside. Who could blame Bilba and Kili for drawing even closer, especially on the long journey home?

A memory surfaced, her telling him she couldn’t have his children, due to them being different races.

Clearly, she’d been mistaken. Pain settled in his very bones at the thought. Children among dwarves were rare, twins as these appeared to be even more so. The birth of Fili and then Kili several years later, after the fall of Erebor had been seen as a blessing, a promise from their Creator that he had not forgotten them in their exile. To have gotten Erebor back and have twins born into the royal family immediately after would be seen by many as an even greater blessing. A sign of Mahal’s divine favor upon the line of Durin. Bilba would be revered among his people, as she should be.

The two she carried now could have been his, by all rights should have been his, and would have been if he hadn’t been such a fool and allowed pride and stubbornness to guide him instead of the wisdom and love of his family and his One.

He shut his eyes against the stab of pain, wondering if it came anywhere near what Bilba had probably felt when he rejected her, or what his nephews felt when he gave them an ultimatum to aid him in casting her out or be cast out themselves.

He opened his eyes again, studying the scene, Kili where he should have been, his nephew’s sons where his should have been.

He held no anger toward Kili. His nephew had seen the worth in that which Thorin had deemed worthless, had stepped up to pick up what Thorin had foolishly cast away.

Thorin cursed himself and not for the first time.

He’d come to a complete stop now, still a distance from them. As he watched the female hobbit gave him a confused look and said something to Bilba. She, in turn, looked startled as if she’d forgotten about him entirely. She started to struggle to her feet, Kili grabbing her arms to help her. Once up she gathered the lot of them into a group and began talking.

Thorin couldn’t hear what she said but he caught the looks being thrown at him by the elf and human, as well as the exact second when all three hobbits turned and attempted to kill him on the spot by glaring him to death.

“Well,” Dwalin drawled, “that’s not promising.”

“No,” Thorin agreed tiredly, “it is not.”

Fili and Kili were still ignoring him completely. As he watched, the elf and man spoke to Bilba for several long minutes. Thorin felt his heart twist again at how small she looked standing before them, two newborns clutched in her arms. Kili stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her, guiding her forward as the two finished whatever it was they were saying.

A moment later the entire group was heading away. The elf and man headed the group while Bilba and his nephews came behind. Kili had taken one of the babies back from Bilba and had his free arm around her. She, in turn, had wrapped an arm around his waist, her fingers tangled in the back of his shirt so tight he could see the white of her knuckles from where he stood. Fili strode easily on her other side, sword still held loosely in one hand, his head high and eyes fixed straight ahead.

“Alright,” Dwalin said beside him, “I guess they’re going the ignore it and hope it goes away route.” He looked at Thorin. “What do you want to do?”

Thorin studied Bilba and his nephews as they moved farther away from him, again.

Idly he slid a hand into his pocket where a bracelet of amber colored hair capped with a bead lay. He couldn’t remember noticing at the time but Dain and Dwalin had both reported Bilba having shorn her head after he’d cast her out.

A sign of shame for a dwarf, or deep, deep pain. For her he imagined it was the second. Pain that deep…pain he’d caused her.

She turned her head, for the third or fourth time he realized now, giving him an unreadable look before turning away again.

“She once told me,” Thorin said slowly, “that I could refuse to let her go with us, could even leave her in Rivendell if I wanted and she would still follow us, all the way to Erebor if need be. On her own.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Dwalin grunted. The shame he felt over not standing up for Bilba was as deep as Thorin’s, maybe even deeper for Thorin could blame at least a small part on the influence of his grandfather’s ring while Dwalin had no such excuse.

Not that Thorin planned to use that excuse. Fili had warned him of the ring’s influence and, in his pride and stubbornness, he’d rejected his heir’s counsel. More than that, however, he’d known, felt it, deep down. The wrongness of what he was doing, saying, he’d recognized the pain not just in her eyes but in the eyes of his nephews, in their voices as they pleaded with him to see reason.

The influence may have been the ring but the actions had been his own.

He took a deep breath. “I didn’t come all this way to simply watch them walk away.”

Dwalin gave him a dry look. “And yet that appears to be precisely what we’re doing.”

Thorin nodded and took a step forward, and then another. Ahead, Bilba turned back and, though the distance was great, he thought he saw her eyes widen. She turned and said something to the boys that had both of them turning to look back as well. Kili’s expression was blank.

Fili’s was cold.

It was possible they would never forgive him.

It was likely he had lost his One to his own nephew.

It was probable he would have to sit and watch the two of them with babies that, by all rights, should have been his.

But Bilba’s loyalty, as well as the loyalty of his nephews, had been absolute. In the face of how he’d treated her, the words he’d flung at her in Rivendell, the way he’d pushed them all aside.

They had never wavered.

He had.

_“I can leave you behind.”_

_“I’ll follow.”_

She’d promised to follow him.

His nephews had always followed, without question.

It was his turn.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To answer the question I know many of you are asking right now - Thorin now literally has nothing better to do with his time then stare at Bilba, Kili and the babies, all day, every day, alllllllll the way to Rivendell. Also, Thorin has her sketchpad.  
> This is quite important. 
> 
> Second note - Fili and Kili are indeed going the route of "We're so angry at you we don't even want to look at you let alone speak to you." Bilba is going the route of freaking right the hell out. She's in the "what do I do? What do I do?" mode and, as such, is following the boy's lead and also trying to keep Ashrin and Frerin as far from Thorin as possible in the hopes he won't see them all that closely. Obviously this will never work but she's still in "holy heck, what do I do" and has not yet calmed down enough to start trying to think things through. 
> 
> There are also still Nazgul after them so that'll be another layer of fun! :D
> 
>  
> 
> On an unrelated note, January 21st is my one year anniversary of joining AO3 (not my anniversary of posting something, that is apparently in April). Anyway, I had an idea on how to mark the occasion if anyone is interested. That is, if you like, you can post a prompt idea you have in the comments, I'll pick one that I like and write a one shot of it to post on the 21st. This one shot can be:  
> A one shot involving an existing story, including Drabbles (ie. "I'd like to see a one shot showing Glorfindel's encounter with the Nazgul from HB Part One")  
> An AU one shot involving an existing story, including Drabbles (ie. "I'd like to see an AU of 'Ash and Phoenix' that's Bilba/Fili instead of Bilba/Thorin'")  
> An original one shot idea (ie. "I'd like to see a Modern AU one shot where Bilba is basically Catwoman and Fili (or Thorin) is Batman). 
> 
> SO, if it works I may just start doing this for other things - anniversary of first posting a fic, my bday, Christmas and the like. IF no one has a prompt then I shall simply post one of my own ideas! I have many. :D :D


	7. Chapter 7

Bilba risked a look over her shoulder and instantly jerked around to face forward again. “He’s _still_ following us!” She hissed.

Kili, who was walking on her right, scowled. “I could put an arrow in his knee. That would stop him.”

Bilba looked at him, startled. She’d definitely misjudged the anger he felt toward Thorin. Apparently Kili was exceptionally good at hiding his feelings. “We can’t shoot him, Kili!”

“Why not?” Fili asked. He was walking on her other side, holding Frerin. “We don’t have to take out his knee. Kili can just shoot him in the leg. Same effect, no permanent damage.”

“I can,” Kili agreed. “I’m a good shot.”

“I know you’re a good shot,” Bilba said in exasperation, “but you still can’t shoot him.”

Fili made an annoyed sound. “You want him to stop following us. That’s the way to do it.”

“I want to do it in a way that doesn’t involve having to explain to my sons how I had their father shot!” Bilba snapped. Her voice rose higher than she intended and, a dozen or so feet in front of them, Priscilla, Seth and Adalgrim turned to give her odd looks. Seth was holding Ashrin, giving Bilba a momentary respite.

She gave them all an innocent grin and they turned away again. Adalgrim shot her a look of disapproval before he turned away and she felt her smile slip.

That was yet another problem she would have to deal with at some point.

Her steps slowed, stumbling slightly as the fatigue stalking her got the upper hand.

They were all exhausted.

They’d been traveling nearly two weeks already, trying desperately to get to Rivendell before the Nazgul found them again. Glorfindel and Aragorn had driven the wraiths away somehow; something about setting them on fire if her tired brain recalled, but there was no doubt it was only temporary.

She still didn’t know why or even how they’d found out where she was.

In their haste to flee the Inn they’d left nearly everything behind, including the slings she’d used to carry the boys on the trip from Rivendell. They'd had no time to buy any food for the journey which meant Glorfindel and Aragorn spent the majority of each day scouting for any sign of the wraiths or hunting. Fili and Kili stayed behind in case the wraith made it past Aragorn or Glorfindel, or in case Thorin decided to try something.

The only bright point, if it could be called that, was the fact that Thorin and Dwalin were apparently no better off. From what they could tell the two must have just arrived in Bree and hadn’t had a chance to resupply yet. The realization had brought back the memory of the two strangers that Bilba had impulsively wanted to offer use of her room too and she’d wanted to kick herself. She could see now it had most likely been Thorin and Dwalin she’d seen and her subconscious had somehow recognized them, body size, way they held themselves or some other intangible quality.

She looked to the horizon where the sun was rapidly starting to dip and felt her stomach clench. While it was spring it was still early enough in the season that, while the days were warm, the nights were not. Over the previous few evenings in particular the nights had been downright cold. They hadn’t been able to light a fire for fear of drawing the attention of the Nazgul and the extra blankets had been left behind.

Ashrin and Frerin weren’t handling it well at all. The previous night Ash had cried for hours while Bilba had held him, desperately trying to quiet him.

Poor Frerin had lain quietly and shivered, his skin pale. They were both wrapped in layers of blankets as they always were but they were the lightest ones she’d had, meant to keep them warm during the day, not at night.

Already the temperature was dropping, the air carrying a bite it hadn’t a few hours ago.

She didn’t know what to do. She needed rest. Her babies need warmth. They needed a fire, needed the Nazgul not to find them, needed Thorin to _go away_.

She risked another look over her shoulder and of course he was still there as he was always there. She didn’t know why he hadn’t confronted her over the babies yet, didn’t know why he’d come at all or why he was following them or what his intentions were.

She didn't anything and the stress of it all was driving her crazy.

She turned her gaze forward again and studied Adalgrim where he strode several feet ahead of her, his back straight and tense.

He was angry at her. He believed the Nazgul would never have come if she hadn’t left. He couldn't understand her desire to leave in the first place. It had been one of the flaws in their friendship as children as well. Adalgrim loved the Shire and was perfectly content with the thought of settling down and living a peaceful hobbit life. He'd achieved all that, moving to Buckland where he'd met and married a young woman named Iris Hornblower and was the proud father of a young son, Paladin. No bad fortune had ever befallen him or his family and, in his eyes, proved his way was the right one.

He'd told her once, during one of their fights before he'd left for Buckland, that she would still have her family if her mother hadn't left the Shire. Now, in his eyes, she'd gone and done the same thing and look what she'd brought back with her.

Her eyes burned and she sniffed, struggling to hold her emotions back. Her vision blurred, exhaustion making her more emotional than she might otherwise have been, and she looked down, trying to regain control.

“Let’s stop for the night,” Fili announced suddenly.

Bilba tried to wipe her eyes without drawing attention, though she had an inkling Fili's sudden decision to stop hadn't just been on a whim.

An arm slid around her shoulder and she looked up to see Priscilla. “Come on, dear,” the other woman said gently. “Let’s go sit down.”

“I’m fine,” Bilba said, her voice wavering slightly. “I’m just tired. We all are.”

“ _We_ aren’t all aren’t nursing two infants and trying to keep ourselves going at the same time,” Priscilla said sternly. “Now come one.”

Bilba gave a watery laugh. “They aren’t infants. They’re almost eight months old.”

Priscilla shrugged. “They look like infants. They act like them, same difference.” She led her over to a small patch of grass next to a jumble of rocks and pushed her down before sitting next to her. “How long until they’ll be ready for solid food? Have they started teething yet?”

Bilba sighed. “I don’t know. I don't think so. Ash has been more finicky lately but it could just be the trip.” she pulled her braid over her shoulder, idly playing with it. “There weren't a lot of dwarven babies around in the Blue Mountains and no half dwarf, half hobbit ones at all. Fili can’t remember when his mother started Kili on solid food and Kili, of course, was to little to remember exactly when it was. They have a younger cousin but don’t see him a lot and didn’t see him at all until he was nearly four.”

Priscilla scowled. “Maybe the elves will know.”

“Maybe,” Bilba said. Seth and Fili approached and she and Priscilla took the babies, letting them go back to finish setting up their meager camp. Beyond them Bilba saw Thorin and Dwalin had also stopped and were setting up their own camp. “Thorin might know. Fili mentioned once the birth rate was much higher before Erebor fell. He's also got two younger siblings. He probably helped out when they were young.”

Admittedly, it was hard to imagine Thorin young or helping out with young children.

“I could go ask him if you want,” Priscilla said, her eyes dark. “I’ve been wanting to talk to him.”

Bilba gave a tired laugh. “Maybe later. I’m still hoping if I ignore him long enough he’ll just go away.”

Priscilla cast a evaluating look at Thorin. “Somehow he doesn’t seem the type to just go away.” She chewed on her lower lip a moment. “I must say, he's not what I’d expected.”

“Really?” Bilba leaned back against the rocks, holding Frerin close and suppressing a yawn. “How so?”

“He’s very imposing,” Priscilla continued, “and you’ve always been a bit--”

“Timid?” Bilba cut in, “Shy? Mousy?”

Priscilla laughed. “You could barely speak to _Adalgrim_ for years, let alone anyone else. Yet here you come back with two princes in tow and a very…striking king following in your wake.”

Bilba raised an eyebrow. “Striking? You think he’s striking?”

“Oh, I still plan to kill him in his sleep,” Priscilla said matter of factly, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t be appreciative in the process.” She grinned at Bilba. “I may be old enough to be your mother, and married, but I’m not dead!”

Bilba couldn’t help it. She started laughing. Fili, Kili, Seth and Adalgrim all turned to look at her like she’d lost her mind but she just waved them off and continued, sagging against Priscilla who, in turn, was looking as innocent as possible.

Around her problems from all corners continued to loom but, for the moment, it felt good just to laugh.

 

***

 

The baby was crying again.

Thorin frowned in the direction of the other campsite. It had grown overcast as night had fallen, hiding the moon and casting the area in such darkness that it was unlikely anyone other than a dwarf could find their way in it.

Dwalin made a slight sound as he shifted position. He was sitting a few feet away, on watch, though Thorin had no doubt he was aware neither of them were asleep.

For not the first time Thorin mentally cursed himself for not pausing to gather the few belongings they’d had in their room at the Inn. It wouldn’t have been much but would have been more than they currently had.

The air was cold, bitterly so, a last gasp of winter before it gave way finally to the onslaught of spring.

The baby was still crying, short hiccupping sobs as it ran out of breath.

“He’s going to make himself sick,” Dwalin’s voice said suddenly, his voice tight.

Thorin didn’t respond but silently agreed. The elf and human hadn’t returned yet, probably still off doing whatever it was they did with their time. Neither of them had apparently considered the idea of going back to Bree to retrieve anything but, then again he admitted to himself, neither had he or Dwalin until they were much to far to turn around.

He pushed to his feet and shrugged off his coat. As he did it bumped against his leg and he felt the outline of the pad he’d grabbed in Bree. He’d been vaguely aware it was there as they traveled but hadn’t had much time to look at it. Now he pulled it out and dropped it on the ground, guilt gnawing at him as he did. He knew he should give it back but he also desperately wanted to know how his One and nephews had been doing the last year and a half. Bilba certainly wasn’t going to tell him but, judging by the thickness of the pad, she’d probably done a pretty good job chronicling it.

He draped the coat over his arm and started to head off into some of the trees near where they were camped.

“Where are you going?” Dwalin asked.

“To help the baby,” Thorin shot back.

“She won’t thank you.”

Thorin shrugged. “I didn't plan on asking her to.”

 

***

 

It took only a short time to gather what he needed.

After he did, Thorin started toward the small area where Bilba and the others were. His stomach clenched but he forced himself to walk straight with his head up, his steps sure.

He was the King of Erebor. In his lifetime he’d faced down dragons, orcs, and his sister.

He could face Bilba.

“You can stop there.”

Thorin was impressed. He hadn’t even sensed Fili, let alone seen or heard him.

A shadow detached from a few feet away and he realized what he’d thought had been a short, nearly dead tree had actually been his nephew seated on a stump. He felt a strong urge to hug the boy after not having seen him in so long but imagined he'd probably get punched for it so he refrained, barely.

“You have your watch out farther than I would have expected,” he said.

“Clearly,” Fili said his voice flat. “And for good reason. What do you want?”

Thorin held up the cord of branches and wood he’d gathered, as well as his coat. “You need a fire.”

“It could attract the Nazgul.”

“The crying _will_ attract the Nazgul,” Thorin shot back. “If it’s one or the other wouldn’t it be better to pick the option that causes the least amount of suffering?”

Fili was silent. In the darkness, Thorin could see his head turned, looking toward where the baby still wailed in misery. The second baby was beginning to start up as well, either from his own misery or in empathy with the first.

“Let me have it,” Fili said, his hand out. “I’ll bring it to them.”

Thorin almost refused. He wanted to speak to Bilba, had been struggling to find a way to approach her. What he had to say didn’t need to be said in front of an audience, however, and she was always surrounded. That and the nearly terrified looks she kept shooting at him told him any attempt would most likely be unwelcome.

He didn’t understand the terror in her eyes when she looked at him. Anger, yes, maybe some fear over how irrational he’d behaved, certainly pain, but terror? It was another thing he wanted to speak to her about and his own impatience demanded he refuse Fili and insist on personally bringing the items over himself.

But it wasn’t about him, he told himself firmly. If he wanted a chance, _any_ chance of being heard, it wouldn’t be by demanding his own way.

He handed the wood over and then the coat. “I thought she could create slings out of the leather. It’d make carrying the children easier.”

“I’ll let her know.” Fili said.

He started to turn away and Thorin forced himself to speak again. “Would you…would you tell Kili I’m happy for him? I know your mother will be too, when she hears.”

Fili was dead silent, for so long that Thorin started to wonder if he’d somehow said something wrong. Finally, though, Fili simply said. “I’ll tell him.”

With that he turned and headed off.

Thorin took a deep breath and let it out, his nerves starting to settle only slightly. For several long minutes he stood and watched his nephew walk away from him, until he squatted next to Bilba and began speaking to her. It cut at him, after having been gone from them so long, to see them all so close and be unable to be near them.

He took a deep breath and turned away, heading back to his own campsite.

Dwalin was waiting for him, a second bundle of branches and sticks gathered by him. “Figure if they’re getting one we might as well too.”

Thorin nodded and bent down to grab the branches and start arranging them.

His eyes went to the sketchpad. Maybe after he set the fire up he’d look through it.

 

***

 

“He said _what_?”

Bilba stared at Fili, shock radiating through her. He, in turn, simply shook his head and continued building the fire, adding sticks and twigs slowly to nurse it to the size he wanted. Bilba had already moved closer, cradling Ash in her arms. He began to calm immediately as the warmth from the blaze washed over him and Bilba felt a tight knot in her own chest ease as well.

Kili had also awakened and come forward with Frerin so he could warm up as well.

Seth, Priscilla and Adalgrim were all still sound asleep.

A fact for which Bilba was suddenly profoundly grateful.

“Well,” Kili said, “I guess that explains why he hasn’t tried to say anything to you.”

“It makes sense if you think about it,” Fili said, keeping his voice low as he came to sit next to her. “They look much younger than they are and their coloring could be Kili’s just as much as his.”

That wouldn’t hold out if he got a good look at them, Bilba thought.

“I have to say,” she said now, “if that’s what he thinks I’m a bit insulted. Not that he thinks I’d have had children with _you_ ,” she hurried to assure Kili, “but that he thinks I would have done it so quickly. It’s only been a year and a half. We’d have had to….um…you know…like immediately.”

It hadn't mattered in the Shire. There they didn't know about Thorin at all and assumed she'd fallen in love with Kili over the course of several months in a natural courtship. For it to be what Thorin was apparently thinking, however, given he knew what had actually gone on she'd have had to have left him and almost immediately been with Kili for the timing to work out.

Kili, instead of looking horrified, gave her a winning smile. “Maybe I’m just that good and swept you off your feet.”

Bilba snorted and found herself grinning back at him. “Well, if _that’s_ what happened then you can hardly blame me.”

“Of course not.” Kili said looking smug. “It’s not your fault I’m irresistible.”

Fili rolled his eyes and reached over to lightly cuff his brother on the back of the head. Kili took affront, his pride now grievously wounded, and Bilba bit back a laugh, her heart swelling with affection for them.

She looked down at Ashrin, who was staring back up at her, and felt her heart twist again at how clearly she could see Thorin in him, even more so now that she had him right there to compare and didn't have to rely on her memories.

She'd assumed he was there because he'd found out about the babies somehow, in much the same way the Nazgul had somehow found out about her.

But if, he hadn't, if he thought the babies were Kili's, why had he come?

_“That’s really Bilba Baggins? The traitor who bewitched Thorin’s heirs?”_

She shivered and swallowed hard. If Thorin truly believed that, that she had Fili and Kili with her against their will, what would he do about it? What had he _been_ planning to do?

If things had gone differently she might still be in the Shire, completely unaware of his impending arrival. If the Nazgul hadn’t come she may well have run into Thorin in the Prancing Pony the next morning.

And what then? What if she had?

Fili and Kili were still clowning around but their voice seemed faded suddenly, muted as though she were listening to them from a long distance.

Almost unconsciously one of her hands went to her throat and pulled her necklace out from under her collar. She wrapped her hand around the ring on the end of it, the metal oddly warm under her hand.

Why had Thorin come?

Why had he come with only Dwalin?

If he thought she was a witch who was controlling her nephews why wouldn’t he just have her quietly assassinated and take them back?

_Nori would probably be happy to do it._

She flinched as the words ran through her mind. The pain from the Company failing to stand up for her still ran deep.

But did it run that deep? Did she really think Nori would hurt her?

Or even Thorin?

Her hand released the ring and she jerked, shaking her head sharply. The fog in her mind cleared and Fili and Kili’s voices snapped back into clarity. Bilba shook her head again, confused, and dropped the ring back under her shirt, wincing as it struck her collarbone at an odd angle, hitting with more force than it normally should have had. It felt a bit hot as well and she decided she must have been holding it closer to the fire than she’d thought.

Fili grinned at her. “So I guess the goal is just to not let him see them, right?”

Bilba nodded. “Right.” She’d obviously missed most of the conversation but her answer seemed to be the correct one as both boys beamed at her.

Bilba forced a smile back, wrapping her arm around her son again and holding him close.

Against her collarbone the ring continued to burn.

 

***

 

Thorin settled down, feeling himself relax as the heat from the fire washed over him. It was smaller than the one at the other campsite but it was enough.

Dwalin growled at him to go to sleep and headed off into the darkness to scout for any trouble in the immediate area.

As he did, Thorin found his eyes drawn to the sketchpad and he reached out to pick it up.

He flipped it open to the first page and saw a sketch of Kili, crouched on the balls of his feet, his arms resting lightly on his knees and an easy grin on his face.

The next drawing after that was Fili, sprawled on his back asleep. One of the babies was curled up on his chest.

It was the first time he’d seen one of the babies for more than a few seconds and, even in profile, could see the boy had strong Durin features.

He idly thumbed through the rest of the pad, past pictures of both his nephews and the babies. One in particular caught his attention. It was of Fili sparring with his brother. Both boys were shirtless and, though Fili’s body was twisted away, he could see Bilba had drawn the beginnings of a vicious looking scar that traced along his rib cage and appeared to wrap around his side.

He’d heard reports of the severity of his heir’s injuries but the sight of it, even in a drawing and even just part of it, was chilling. He could have lost him entirely and the last memory he'd have had of Fili would have been the betrayal in the boy’s eyes.

He turned the page quickly and found himself looking at a picture of an unknown elf. There were quite a few drawings of elves scattered through the pad and he wondered how long she’d stayed in Rivendell to have drawn them all.

He glanced down at a scribble in the corner. Bilba had dated the pictures. According to the writing, this particular one had been done nearly four months earlier.

He flipped to the next page and found another picture of the babies, curled up in a small crib sleeping.

Almost automatically, his eyes glanced at the date.

Four months.

He stopped, confused.

Four months?

He’d thought they were newborns.

He flipped through a few more drawings and found more sketches of them, dated back five months and then six.

An odd feeling began to settle in his gut and he flipped to the back, looking for the oldest picture he could find of the children.

He found it, the babies looking far smaller and more fragile than in the brief glimpse he’d seen of them.

He looked at the date, and felt his breath rush out of him as though someone had punched him in the gut.

Depending on how soon after their birth the picture had been drawn the babies were at least seven months old, if not older.

The sound of boots crunching on leaves sounded and he looked up as Dwalin returned.

“Did you notice if Kili and Bilba were together during the journey to Erebor?”

Dwalin raised an eyebrow. “Not like how I think you’re asking. They were close but I’d always had them pegged as more siblings than anything else.” He frowned. “Why? You think they were carrying on behind your back?”

“No,” Thorin said, “they wouldn’t have done that.”

“No,” Dwalin agreed, his tone suggesting it was a good thing Thorin agreed with him. “They wouldn’t have. Why?”

Thorin held the sketchpad up. “The babies are at least seven months old.”

Dwalin, to his credit, didn’t ask why Thorin was going through Bilba’s sketchpad. He frowned instead, his mind working. “How long does a hobbit/dwarf pregnancy last?”

“I don’t know,” Thorin said, “Maybe a year and a half?”

Dwalin rolled his eyes. “I don’t think picking the midpoint between a hobbit pregnancy and a dwarven one counts as accurate, Thorin.” He considered it. “Maybe when they were locked in the Treasury? Thought they were going to die and probably were pretty scared. Maybe they got a little closer than they meant to.”

“No,” Thorin said, adding the numbers out in his head. “That still doesn’t work. That’d barely be as long as a standard hobbit pregnancy, let alone one with half dwarven children.”

“Couldn’t tell you then,” Dwalin said. He nodded toward the other campsite. "You're assuming they're even half dwarven, half hobbit. One of the hobbits traveling with them now is her age and there was always that weasel who was sniffing around her in the Shire when we left. Didn't he write her in Rivendell? Farm or Darm or something?"

"Fram," Thorin muttered, barely listening, "she told him to marry someone else". A hollow feeling settled in his gut and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He’d been flipping through the pad again as they spoke, slower this time, looking specifically for pictures of the babies. "They aren't hobbit children. There are no pictures in here aside from Fii and Kili and the babies."

If the father were a hobbit he'd expect him to be in the pad.

He’d finally found what he'd been looking for near the beginning. A close up drawing of the boys, laying on their backs, gazing upward.

Their features, as he’d originally thought, were undeniably Durin features.

They were not, however, Kili’s.

His world seemed to spiral downward until it was focused on nothing more than those two faces, staring up at him from the pad. He lifted his head and stared toward the other campsite. Bilba was seated next to Kili, her legs drawn up and one of the babies perched on them. Tiny hands were curled around her fingers and she was lightly moving them about, her lips moving as she spoke or sang to him.

In an almost trance his mind started calculating.

“Dwalin,” he said numbly, “when did we pass over the Misty Mountains? How long ago?”

“You mean the business with the goblins?” Dwalin asked. He was silent a moment. “I don’t know, maybe two years, give or take a couple of months?”

Thorin hadn’t seen Bilba in roughly a year and a half. If he went with the idea that she’d been pregnant a year and a half, the midpoint of a hobbit and a dwarven pregnancy, it would put her pregnancy beginning around twenty-five months earlier.

Depending on exactly how long ago the goblin tunnels had been and exactly how long her pregnancy had actually been...

The numbers clicked together so seamlessly it took him a few seconds for it to register.

He was pretty sure he stopped breathing.

He knew he stopped blinking, his eyes locked so intensely on Bilba and the baby that they began to tear up with the strain.

Twins.

Twin boys.

Heirs to the line of Durin.

Fili and later Kili had been Mahal's promise after the fall of Erebor.

These two boys, _twins_ no less which were almost unheard of in dwarven families, were Mahal's promise for its future.

And he'd thrown them, and their mother, away.

He didn't even know their _names_.

His mind couldn’t process it.

If it were true...

If it were...

It would mean she’d been pregnant when she’d marched into Smaug’s lair.

When the dragon had dragged her away and nearly starved her to death.

It would mean she’d been carrying his sons –

His

Sons

When he’d turned on her and driven her from Erebor.

When she’d fled into Mirkwood ahead of an advancing army.

When she’d been cornered by orcs invading Thranduil's palace.

When she'd found herself in the midst of a massive battle.

 

When a Nazgul had thrown her over the edge of the Spires.

 

“Thorin? Thorin!” Dwalin had come and grabbed his shoulders, which was a good thing as Thorin’s entire body had suddenly locked up. He sagged and would have fallen completely if Dwalin hadn’t grabbed him.

“What have I done?” Thorin gasped. Bone deep horror raged through him. Nausea rose and he shoved Dwalin away, leaning over and gagging as the meager lunch he'd had earlier in the day threatened to reappear. He dug a hand into the dirt, the small bits of rock and grit digging into his fingers.

What had he done?

Mahal above.

_What had he done?_

“Thorin?” Dwalin was kneeling by him again, helping him up to a sitting position. Thorin managed to grab his shirt, pulling himself up. His body felt weak, disconnected. The pad had tumbled from his hand and lay in a heap on the ground.

Thorin locked eyes with Dwalin. “I don’t think they’re Kili’s children,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I think they’re mine.”

He saw Dwalin’s eyes widen in horror and couldn’t help but repeat it, the same horror thrumming through his blood.

“Dwalin, I think they’re _mine_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Chapter 6 on the second page of comments toward the bottom (second from the final comment/response) I posted a full timeline of events taking us from HB Part In to where we are now in the story. SO, if you're interested in seeing the breakdown it's there! :) In the chapter it gets talking about more vaguely because most people aren't able to say, "Well, exactly three months, two weeks and seven days ago..." Instead they'll say, "I don't know, couple of years ago?" or something like that. :D


	8. Chapter 8

Bilba woke to the sound of a loud argument.

She lifted her head and saw Thorin standing near the edge of the campsite. A foot in front of him, barely reaching the height of his collarbone, stood Priscilla. She had a finger raised in Thorin’s face and was loudly ranting about something. Behind her Seth, Adalgrim, Fili, and Kili were ranged in a half circle, observing.

Seth and Adalgrim looked nervous.

Dwalin was still back at his own campsite idly carving on a block of wood.

The scene was bizarre and so surreal Bilba assumed at first she was still asleep and having a rather insane dream.

“She almost _died,_ you bastard. You sent her off in the middle of the winter and nearly got her killed and now you think you can just march over here and demand to talk to her? I don’t think so!”

Fear surged through her as the words registered and Bilba jumped to her feet so fast that the blood rushed from her head and she swayed, black spots dancing in her vision. She staggered, one hand going out to try and find support.

An arm slid around her and she shot a look of gratitude at Kili who’d seen her and jumped to grab her before she fell.

“Priscilla!”

Instantly she had the attention of everyone at the camp, including Thorin.

Priscilla marched over and held something out to her. Bilba blinked and looked at it in confusion.

Her sketchpad.

“The dwarf I’m going to murder and bury in the garden wanted to return this,” Priscilla said, cold anger coloring her tone. “You left it behind in Bree.”

Bilba took the pad carefully. As she did her eyes flickered to Thorin. He in turn was looking down, to where Ash and Frerin were curled together on a blanket beside where she’d been sleeping.

Her stomach twisted at the look in his eyes.

He _knew._

Her hand clenched on the sketchpad, fingers digging into the pages.

She’d dated her drawings.

Thorin, unfortunately, could count.

Bilba cursed mentally.

She’d sold out _herself_.

“Bilba,” Thorin started to say but Priscilla cut him off.

“I think you’ve done more than enough, don’t you? If you have the slightest hint of honor left in you then you can at least give her some time to gather herself can't you?”

Adalgrim made a strangled noise from where he stood, giving his mother a horrified look.

Thorin in turn looked…stricken and Bilba cursed again, this time at the small area of her heart that actually twisted in sympathy for him.

“Just go, Thorin,” she said, “Please. I’ll come speak to you in a while. I promise.” Her voice wavered and she may have had a death grip on Kili but she met his eyes and kept her chin up.

Thorin gave a short nod and, with that, turned and headed back to Dwalin.

Bilba watched him go; startled he’d actually obeyed her. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before she started hyperventilating.

He knew.

Such small, simple words and yet they were the realization of her worst nightmares. She was more terrified of him finding out than she was of the Nazgul.

The Nazgul only wanted her, not her children.

She looked over and saw Thorin had sat down next to Dwalin and was speaking to him.

She shivered. It was suddenly difficult to breathe and cold was racing through her.

He.

 _Knew_.

It started up in her head like a chant.

He knows. He knows. HeKnowsHeKnowsHeKnowsValarHelpMeHeKnows.

Her legs buckled. Kili supported helped her sit back down next to the babies.

A second later she had the entire group gathered around her.

“Bilba?” Fili asked, crouching beside her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “I am, really.”

Priscilla came and sat next to her and shot a look at the others. “Why don’t you all go get breakfast ready and break camp? I’ll help Bilba with the babies.”

The others complied, though grudgingly. Fili and Kili went to the campfire to start putting together a meal while Adalgrim and Seth began packing up the meager supplies. Glorfindel and Aragorn still hadn’t returned. Bilba hoped they were alright.

“I’m such an idiot,” she whispered to Priscilla. “What am I going to do?”

Ashrin had woken up and was wiggling around on the blanket, preparing for his early morning pronouncement of being hungry and in need of changing, in that order. The changing would have to wait until she could get some water from the river but she put the sketchpad down and picked him up to feed him.

“Do you remember right after you lost your parents?” Priscilla asked suddenly and Bilba turned to look at her with a frown.

“Of course I do.”

“You locked yourself in Bag End for weeks,” Priscilla continued. “You wouldn’t let any of us in.”

“I was grieving,” Bilba said, settling Ashrin into place to feed him. She pulled a blanket over herself as she did because she was currently surrounded by people she considered her family and had no desire to traumatize them or herself.

“You were trying to carry a massive weight by yourself,” Priscilla corrected. “You’ve always had a habit of doing that, Bilba. You act as though you’re completely alone and you _never_ have been.”

She indicated the rest of the group.

“Those creatures are after you, not any of them,” Priscilla said gently, “yet they’ve all willingly put themselves in danger alongside you.”

Bilba felt her eyes tear up and she looked down toward Ashrin to hide it. She could still remember how hard it had been to figure out how to feed them in Rivendell. She’d assumed it was as simple as holding the baby to her breast and things would just happen like they were supposed to. It had gone that way with Frerin, more or less, but when it came to Ashrin he wouldn’t latch on and she hadn’t been able to figure out how to get him to. It had eventually led to both of them crying, him from hunger and her from the conviction she was a terrible excuse for a mother. She’d still been in the Healing Ward at Rivendell at the time and the elven healer had heard her and left the room, returning shortly with an elven mother who had several adult children of her own. The woman had patiently sat with her and helped her learn how to do things she hadn’t even realized she _needed_ to do much less understood _how_ to do.

That had been a complete stranger, a mental voice chided her, who’d willingly offered her aid when she needed it. Now here she was surrounded by family and she feared Thorin was somehow going to run over and rip the babies out of her arms.

She relaxed a little though her stomach still felt tied in knots.

She _really_ didn’t want to talk to him.

“So,” Priscilla’s voice came from beside her again, “what’s the absolute worst thing you think can happen?”

Bilba tensed. She carefully settled Ashrin back down and picked Frerin up. Her stomach growled and she fought back a second flash of fear at how low their supplies were, even with the hunting Fili and Kili had been doing. Traveling from Rivendell _to_ the Shire had been a pleasant experience. They’d had ponies and plenty of blankets and food.

Traveling on foot to Rivendell with only small stores of food and hardly any blankets for when the nights got cold was reminding her of the long months she’d spent traveling back from Erebor while heavily pregnant. Not to mention she had to eat enough to provide for both her own needs and the babies, all the while walking miles upon miles on low supplies. She was exhausted and the others knew it. It was part of the reason she more often than not found herself not carrying her boys anymore and why Fili and Kili would walk with their arms around her, giving her support as they moved. She was getting to the point where if one of them offered to carry her she’d probably accept.

“He could try to take one,” she said finally, responding to Priscilla, “or both.”

“He’d have those princes of yours at his throat,” Priscilla countered, “along with me, Seth, Adalgrim, Glorfindel and Aragorn. What else?”

Bilba sucked in a shaky breath, trying to turn generalized fear into something concrete. “Um, he could ask to hold one and then not give him back.”

“And then what?” Priscilla asked. “He wouldn’t be allowed to leave and there’s no way he hasn’t realized you’re still nursing them. He’s too far from anywhere he could hope to find a wetnurse in time for them.” She leaned forward to catch Bilba’s eye. “Would he hurt them?”

Bilba remembered all the way back to the Treasury, worrying over whether or not Thorin would even want children.

Kili had assured her he would, that he’d be ecstatic.

She shot another look to where he was currently standing and leaning against a tree, watching her. He certainly didn’t _look_ particularly enthused but then it had probably been an understandable surprise to find out he was the father of seven month old twins.

Still, he had backed down at once when she’d asked him to.

She had to admit she’d never seen him raise a hand in violence toward a friend or ally, and that included her. Not even at the last when he’d said all those horrible things to her and thrown her out of Erebor.

She looked to where Kili was crouched over the small fire. Fili was standing over him, looking into the distance, probably wondering, like the rest of them, where Glorfindel and Aragorn were He took over leadership when the other two were gone, as naturally as breathing, and none of them questioned it. Fili and Kili were strong, hard-working and well trained. They were blooded royalty but held no airs, demanded no special treatment, were not prone to laziness. Both of them were well mannered, loyal and honorable. She knew a good portion came from their mother. Both boys talked about her in glowing terms, describing a woman Bilba would be honored to meet one day if she ever got the chance. She also knew, however, that their father had died, so long ago that Kili had never met him. In his absence, Thorin had taken over, becoming more of a father figure to them than an uncle as they’d grown up. While a lot of their character came from their mother, just as much came from their uncle, instilled in them even as he’d taken responsibility for leading the colony in the Blue Mountains, a place she knew to be prosperous and peaceful.

She remembered how Fili and Kili had talked about their uncle, before Erebor, before his betrayal. They were angry, deeply angry, but she had no doubt that the root of that anger was pain. Fili and Kili had been betrayed not just by their uncle but by the only father they’d ever known, a dwarf they had deeply loved and respected, and his rejection of them had cut them deeper than any blade, just as it had cut her.

And perhaps, if she were willing to be honest with herself, the reason she understood their anger so well was that, deep down, she knew the cause mirrored her own.

“No,” she said, her voice stronger, “he wouldn’t hurt them.”

The weight over her head lessened somewhat. She would still have to talk to him but the anticipation was probably worse than the actual event would be…she hoped.

She could remember feeling similarly when she’d been pregnant and facing the fact she’d have to give birth at some point. She’d wanted her babies of course but she’d had no idea what to expect and no one to explain it to her. Her traveling companions on the way home had all been males, unmarried males without children of their own.

There’d been so much fear and worry and uncertainty, stress and anxiety and it was always in front of her, always something she’d have to wake up in the morning and realize was still there.

She’d just wanted it over with.

She swallowed. “Could you look after the boys for me?”

“Of course,” Priscilla said. “Just call if you need me to come gut him like a pig for you.”

Bilba laughed. “You can’t bring yourself to step on a spider.”

“Then I’ll just get your archer to shoot him,” Priscilla responded. “I doubt he’d need much encouragement.”

“He’s not _my_ archer,” Bilba muttered. “And I’d actually prefer if you didn’t encourage him.” Kili might talk big about shooting his uncle but, when it came down to it, Bilba didn’t believe he’d actually do it. He was angry and also responding to her and Fili’s anger and hurt, trying to make them happy. He did that a lot, putting others’ feelings and desires ahead of his own. Since he refused to look after his own wants it meant Bilba and Fili had to and _that_ meant not putting him in a position where he thought he might have to hurt his uncle.

Frerin was done and Bilba put her clothing back together. She settled him down next to his brother and, with a deep breath, stood up. She took another deep breath as she did because breathing was suddenly difficult but she forced herself to start moving forward.

She really, really, _really_ wanted this particular conversation over with.

She shot a look toward Fili and Kili and, within a heartbeat, had both next to her.

“I was hoping we’d go for the ignore him and maybe he goes away route,” Kili asked.

Bilba didn’t answer. They’d moved beyond the perimeter of the campsite and she saw Thorin step away from the tree and start forward. Dwalin stayed behind. Thorin stopped several yards away, at about the halfway point between their two camps. Bilba swallowed and indicated for Fili and Kili to stay where they were. They gave her twin glares of displeasure but she ignored them and went forward to meet Thorin.

He towered over her. She’d forgotten how big he was and she clasped her hands in front of her, wringing them anxiously.

She had no idea what to say to him, she realized.

She opened her mouth, hoping the words would just come, at precisely the same time he did. Instantly both of them closed their mouths and went back to standing there like idiots. Apparently neither of them had taken into account the awkwardness of the situation.

Finally, Bilba decided to go at it from another angle. There had been an awful suspicion in the back of her mind ever since Bree and, though she wanted to believe Thorin wouldn’t stoop that low, she still wanted to know the answer. “How did the Nazgul find out where I live?”

He looked startled. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Bilba said. “It’s not like I posted my address for them. How did they find me?”

“I don’t consort with the servants of Sauron,” Thorin growled, clearly picking up on her implication, “I certainly didn’t tell them. You honestly think I would betray you like that?”

“I don’t know, Thorin,” Bilba replied her ire beginning to awaken. “Wouldn’t you? You abandoned me to a battle after all.”

“You weren’t supposed to be there,” Thorin countered. “I sent Dain to take you back to the Shire but you’d already left for Lake-town.”

Bilba blinked in surprise. He had?

She didn’t get a chance to respond as Thorin proved the last year and a half had not changed his penchant for opening his mouth and letting words simply fall out as they liked. “You shouldn’t have done that in your condition,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “You should have gone home.”

“Don’t you _dare_ judge me, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilba shot back, anger lacing her tone. “I had no way of knowing the Valar cursed orcs would arrive early or that they would attack Mirkwood. I was trying to save my friends, which is far more than you did!”

That was unfair and she knew it. She’d seen him on the battlefield after the Nazgul had thrown her over the Spires. She wasn’t really in the mood for being fair at the moment, however.

“When did you find out?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet.

“Smaug told me,” she muttered.

Thorin looked dumstruck. “The dragon?”

“Yes, Thorin, the dragon,” Bilba snapped. “After he locked me in the Treasury and tried to starve me to death!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought I’d lost them!” Bilba shouted, her frayed nerves finally snapping. “I started bleeding and I thought they were gone and the last thing I wanted to do was tell you I’d lost your children!”

Her voice broke on the last word, memories and emotions from that time flooding back. Her eyes burned and when she spoke again her voice wavered. “I wanted to be sure but then you were acting like such an _ass_ and then you threw me out of the mountain and there was an army coming and I--”

“And after all that you left for the Shire without even trying to talk to me,” Thorin said. There was a trace of hurt in his voice but Bilba wasn’t having it.

“This isn’t my _fault_ ,” she said, tears escaping her eyes, “you told Dain you thought I was a witch and put a spell on the boys. What was I supposed to do, Thorin? Tell me. You’re a Valar-cursed _King_ you jackass. And you thought I was a thief and a liar and a witch. What if you decided you wanted them but not me? You could have thrown me into the dungeons until I had them or even had me killed! What was I supposed to do?”

Thorin looked stunned.

Fili and Kili stepped up on either side of her, apparently having had enough of watching, and she turned and wrapped her arms around Kili, burying her face in his shirt so she didn’t have to look at stupid Thorin OakenAss anymore.

“I would never take them from you,” Thorin’s voice said from behind her. His own voice sounded shaky but Bilba couldn’t bring herself to look at him, simply tightening her grip on Kili.

“No,” Fili agreed from next to her, his voice cold. “You wouldn’t.”

“You can’t anyway,” Bilba muttered against Kili’s chest. “They still need me.”

She would just keep telling herself that, she decided, until she believed it.

She let out a shaky breath, getting herself back under control, and turned to face Thorin. She didn’t resist when Kili wrapped both arms around her waist from behind and pulled her to lean against him. She was shaking and it was comforting to have him there. She reached up and pulled the long coil of hair running down her back over her shoulder, clasping it tight in both hands. The braids placed there by Fili and Kili had become a security blanket of sorts for her, one she tended to grab when she was particularly upset.

“What do you want, Thorin?” she asked, her voice tired. “Why did you come?”

He had an entire kingdom at his command. He could have sent a battalion of troops to her door. He could have had assassins come after her or even sent people to kidnap Fili and Kili and drag them back.

There was no reason she could think of for him to have come personally aside from him having found out about the twins but the evidence suggested he genuinely hadn’t known she even had children, much less that they were his.

In front of her Thorin shifted and something in his face changed.

He looked nervous, Bilba thought.

Why did _Thorin_ look nervous?

He took a deep breath, apparently the inability to breathe was contagious, and then dropped to one knee in front of her.

Bilba’s hands froze on her hair and she gaped at him.

Thorin was kneeling before her.

Thorin Oakenshield, the King under the Mountain was _kneeling before her._

She looked at Fili and saw he looked stunned; his eyes wide. Tilting her head back showed Kili with much the same expression.

Thorin had his head bowed, one arm draped over his knee, his other hand braced lightly against the ground. Behind him, at his campsite, Dwalin was standing at attention, his arms behind his back though the look in his eyes suggested he was questioning Thorin's sanity.

“Bilba Baggins,” Thorin intoned, his voice solemn. “I have transgressed against you and brought shame and dishonor upon my house.”

Kili made a strangled noise behind her. His arms tightened around her waist and Bilba put her hands on top of his.

“In doing so I have furthered transgressed against my heirs and caused others to stumble in my path.”

It was about that time Bilba realized Thorin was speaking Khuzdul. She’d never heard it with the gravity or weight Thorin was giving it.

“What are you doing?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Around them the air seemed to still and grow heavy. Bilba had the sudden insane feeling that they were being watched and by more than Seth, Adalgrim, Priscilla and Dwalin. She felt as though the eyes of something ancient, and incredibly powerful, were on her and she had to resist the urge to cower in light of it.

Thorin reached into his boot and withdrew a large knife. Bilba instinctively tried to take a step back but Kili’s body blocked her. His arms squeezed her briefly in reassurance and she forced herself to hold still.

Thorin grabbed one of the braids he wore over his shoulder and sliced it off in a movement so sudden Bilba flinched.

He reached into another pocket and came out with something else in his hand.

It was her braid, Bilba realized with a sharp pang. The one she’d cut off and left behind in Erebor. How Thorin had gotten it she had no idea but have it he did.

As she watched in silence Thorin undid both braids and then combined them, turning them into one thick braid that was a mix of her hair and his. He capped both ends with hair beads, the one he’d worn and the one she’d once worn.

Fili and Kili were both completely still as he worked and she could still feel the presence like something else was observing, a feeling of almost being pressed upon slightly, her legs struggling just a bit more than usual to keep her upright.

Thorin finished and then laid the knife down on the ground before them before placing the new braid on the blade.

Finally he looked up, locking eyes with her. “Bilba Baggins,” he stated in cultured Khuzdul, “I do hereby swear myself to you until such as time as you deem my honor restored, or declare it irreparable.”

He picked up the knife and without hesitation slashed his palm. Now it was Bilba’s turn to make a strangled noise as she stepped forward to try and grab the knife. No matter what she felt about him the very last thing she wanted was the father of her sons harming himself.

Fili and Kili both stopped her.

Thorin tilted his hand and allowed several drops of blood to fall on the braid and the beads at both ends. As he did she saw the cut on his hand was shallow and breathed a sigh of relief.

“So it is witnessed,” Thorin stated. “So it is done.”

He replaced the knife and stood up. Bilba raised her eyes just in time to see him give her a respectful nod before he turned on one heel and headed back to his camp. Dwalin grabbed Thorin’s hand, scowled at him and then dragged him over to treat it before it got infected in the environment they were trekking through.

Around them the weight she’d been feeling slowly lifted, the presence fading. Birds she hadn’t realized had fallen silent started up again and a light breeze was suddenly dancing along the tops of the long grass they stood in.

Bilba looked down at the braid of hair lying at her feet. “So,” she said slowly, “what exactly just happened?”

The boys didn’t bother translating for her. They already knew she could speak Khuzdul. It had been a long journey home from Erebor after all and they had quickly run out of ways to creatively insult Thorin. She’d ended up with the same agreement she’d once had with Nori. She’d been teaching them Black Speech in return for them helping her with her Khuzdul.

“I didn’t think he’d go that far,” Kili muttered, looking toward Thorin.

“How far did he go?” Bilba asked. “What did he do?”

“He bound himself to you,” Fili said, “until such a time as you deem his honor is restored or you reject him.”

“I heard that part but what does it mean?” Bilba repeated blankly. “So, what, he’s like my servant now?”

“Exactly,” Kili said.

“I--” Bilba stopped and then started again. “I don’t – why me though?” She finally asked. “He wronged you just as much. And why just Thorin? Dwalin’s not over here binding himself to me or whatever it is.”

“Thorin has taken responsibility for anything Dwalin or anyone else may have done to you,” Fili said. “He basically said if it weren’t for his behavior their behavior wouldn’t have happened.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t mean you can’t still be angry at them or that they’re absolved from needing to beg your forgiveness,” here anger leeched into his voice, “but in the eyes of our culture Thorin was both the leader of the Company and the King under the Mountain and has taken responsibility for the actions of those under his authority on the claim that their actions were directly born from his.”

Bilba stared at the braid where it still lay forlornly on the ground. “So I’m supposed to carry around a hank of bloody hair now?”

“If you want,” Fili said. “If not you can just leave it where it is.”

He said it nonchalant but there was an odd tension to his voice that had Bilba giving him a suspicious look. “And what happens to Thorin if I leave it where it is?”

He sighed. “He’ll be an exile, unable to return to Erebor or any dwarven settlement, ever.”

Bilba jerked as though someone had punched her. “What? That makes no sense. Why couldn’t he just fake it? Pretend I forgave him? He knows I won’t care.”

“He can’t,” Kili explained, “even if he wasn’t one of the most well-known dwarves in Middle Earth. If he makes any move to betray you again, and that includes leaving, he’ll be struck down.”

“Struck down by who?” Bilba asked blankly.

“By Mahal,” Fili said matter of fact. At her incredulous look he said, “I’m serious. What he just did was a dwarven blood Ceremony of Binding.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Bilba said, half suspecting he was messing with her.

Fili gave her a dry look. “Of course you haven’t. We’re dwarves. We pride ourselves on being secretive.”

He had a point.

She sighed. She was beginning to get a headache.

“On the bright side,” Kili said suddenly. “You don’t have to worry about him trying to take Ash and Frerin. I’m pretty sure that would fall under the heading of betraying you.”

Bilba frowned at him. “Does Mahal actually strike you down or is that just one of those ‘if I break my word may Mahal strike me down’ things?”

“No, he actually does,” Fili said. “Our Creator is quite serious about such things. Granted it hasn’t happened often but our records are pretty clear that it _has_ happened.”

Bilba was definitely getting a headache. Her temples were throbbing and she suddenly felt every inch of dirt, grime and overall exhaustion she’d been dragging along the past week and a half.

“So,” she said slowly. “I’m stuck in the wild with the servants of darkness on my tail, with two babies that are still nursing, with no supplies and with the King under the Mountain bound to me until I either forgive him or ruin his life by exiling him or getting him struck down by Mahal?”

“That about sums it up,” Kili said agreeably.

Bilba groaned, turned in his arms and buried her face against his shirt again. She didn’t feel what Thorin had done at Erebor warranted her destroying his life or robbing him of his throne, the one thing he’d spent his life striving for.

But she also didn’t have it in her to forgive him at the moment.

She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt. Part of her was still angry and hurt and even irritated that he’d put her in this position.

Another part was impressed that he’d gone to such ridiculous lengths.

Well of course he did; a voice inside her sneered. He knows he has children now.

Bilba tensed. Was that why he’d done it? He hoped to get her forgiveness so he could have a relationship with the babies? Not to mention he’d probably manage to get Fili and Kili’s forgiveness as well along the way.

She lifted her head and frowned up at Kili. “Can’t I just go tell him I forgive him and then he’ll go away?”

His eyes narrowed. “Do you forgive him?”

Bilba dropped her head. “No,” She groused.

“It’d be the same as rejecting him then,” Fili explained.

He knelt and picked up the braid, holding it lightly in one hand. “If you keep it then it shows you’re considering giving him the chance to earn your forgiveness, if you wear it then it shows you’ve given him the chance and giving it back says he’s earned your forgiveness.”

Bilba gave him a calculating look. Her headache had gotten worse and she felt cold. In particular the spot on her collarbone where her ring lay felt like a small circle of pure ice resting against her skin.

Was it already working? Was _Fili_ already softening toward Thorin? What if they turned on her and supported him taking the babies?

Fili gave her a confused look. “Bilba?” He knelt suddenly and put the braid back before straightening again. “It’s up to you. We can leave it here if you want and never think about it again.”

“It’ll get rid of him,” Kili said. “It’ll be one less thing to worry about. You don’t even have to do it yourself. I can take the braid over and tell him to leave.”

The cold feeling faded and her headache lessened. Bilba felt an odd surge of annoyance though she couldn’t understand why or where it came from.

She shook her head lightly. What was she thinking? Fili and Kili wouldn’t turn on her. And they’d already said Thorin couldn’t betray her if he wanted to stay in Mahal’s favor. If he were seeking her forgiveness under false pretenses, not because he wanted her to forgive him but because he wanted to manipulate her to get at the children and the boys that would pretty much be the definition of betrayal wouldn’t it?

Bilba pulled away from Kili and retrieved the braid herself, shoving it into a pocket of her trousers. She did not look toward Thorin to see his reaction but pressed a hand lightly to her head. “I have a headache.”

“Come on,” Fili said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go back and sit down. We’ll rest an hour or two to see if Glorfindel and Aragorn come back before we head out.”

Bilba nodded, closing her eyes as he started her back toward their own camp. She’d need to get water to clean up the babies, but she could probably have Fili do it while she sat down for a bit.

It was only when she saw her sons lying on their blanket that she realized Thorin had never asked or demanded to see them.

She twisted around to see him still seated in front of Dwalin. As she watched she saw him turn and look past her toward where Ashrin and Frerin were. There was a look of clear longing in his eyes but he made no move.

He was waiting to be invited.

 

***

 

Dwalin jerked the binding tight with just a little more force than absolutely necessary and Thorin raised an eyebrow in question.

"Something you'd like to say?"

"You go to far," Dwalin growled. "What were you thinking?"

Thorin sighed. "She thought I was going to have her _assassinated._ She'd never listen to anything I said as long as that was in the way. I wanted us to be on equal footing."

Dwalin settled back. "She could declare you an exile."

Thorin looked to where Bilba was speaking to his nephews. "She won't."

"And how can you possibly know that? You're not exactly on her list of favorite people."

As Thorin watched Bilba grabbed the braid and stuffed it in her pocket with an irritated motion.

He grinned in relief, feeling a weight lift off his back.

"I know she won't," He said turning to look at Dwalin again, "because she's a far better person than I am."

Dwalin was still pissed but he would get over it.

Thorin felt his eyes drawn, almost on their own, to the blanket at the other camp with his sons on it.

His sons.

His heart swelled with pride and love even though he hadn't officially met them yet.

He was a father.

He had _sons_.

He didn't even know their names.

His heart wrenched in his chest. The other hobbit, Priscilla if he recalled, had told him in detail what Bilba had told her about the trip back to Rivendell. The look Fili and Kili had given him had confirmed it was every bit as bad as it sounded.

His One had nearly died.

His sons had nearly died.

He'd missed their birth and the first seven months of their lives.

All because his own pride and stubbornness had led to his refusing their attempts to help, had blinded them to the fact that giving away the Arkenstone had been in an attempt to avoid war and protect his kingdom.

He'd driven them away and, in doing so, had missed so _much_.

And he had no one to blame but himself.

"No," he said again, almost to himself, "I don't believe I went to far."

If anything, he hadn't gone far enough.

 

***

 

Glorfindel and Aragorn arrived a half hour later. They’d traveled out of their way to a Ranger way station and raided it for supplies.

Aragorn had hoped that he would find survivors from the attack on Sarn Ford but there had been no sign, a fact which Bilba could see weighed heavily on him.

They packed up quickly. Fili sliced up the coat Thorin had given them the night before, turning it into two slings for the babies. He helped Priscilla get set up with Ashrin and then set himself up with Frerin.

As they did Aragorn grabbed his own equipment and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, his voice grave. “There's been no sign of the Nazgul but I don't doubt they're still around.”

Bilba nodded and hurried to fall in behind him, the others gathered around her.

Behind them Thorin trailed after them along with Dwalin.

Bilba watched him for a few minutes before turning to face forward again.

Her emotions were still swirling. She didn’t know what she felt or what she wanted to do. She didn’t know if she could forgive Thorin.

She didn’t know if she _wanted_ to forgive Thorin.

On the other hand she didn’t want her sons growing up wondering why their mother had their father as a servant. She didn’t want to deny Thorin his mountain or his people. No matter what he’d done or how angry or hurt over it she was she didn’t believe he deserved that.

In a perfect world her sons would grow up knowing, and being loved by, their mother and their father.

Could Thorin be that father? At one time she’d have had no problem saying yes. She could see with her own eyes that he had been that kind of father to Fili and Kili.

But, at one time, she also would have sworn he would never hurt her the way he had.

She’d been wrong.

If she were wrong again it wouldn’t just be her being hurt, it would be her sons.

She couldn’t afford to be wrong, not with them.

She’d given her heart once and had it broken. Perhaps it had partly been her fault. Perhaps she’d given it too fast, too easily.

She wouldn't make that same mistake again, not with her sons on the line.

She'd believed she knew him once.

Perhaps she had.

Perhaps she hadn't.

Time would tell.

And so, until it did, she would wait.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in action! :D Sorry for the long wait everyone. March was very unkind to me to say the least. Things are looking back on track now though so onward to writing! :D
> 
> One note about this chapter - the geographic location of Weathertop to the Trollshaws is a hybrid of what it is in canon and what it appears to be in the movies. In canon there's quite a distance between the two. In the movies, however, stuff happens on Weathertop and the very next scene is them in the Trollshaws - it's still night, the Nazgul are still on their tail and they're still in "holy crap, Frodo got stabbed, find magic cure all weed!" panic mode. This suggests the Trollshaws are very close, much closer than they are in canon (I know they don't appear in the long shot when they first approach Weathertop but I chalk this up to simply a plot hole - similar to how the moat around Erebor is empty until Bilbo climbs down with the Arkenstone and then is suddenly full of water or how Thranduil tells his archers to kill anything that moves on the mountain and the next scene is Bilbo scurrying down in full view and remaining completely unkilled). SO, what I'm getting at is the Trollshaws are closer than they are in canon but farther than in the movies - about a half hour's walk or so from Weathertop. Thus sayeth I. :D
> 
> Anyhoo, I hope you all enjoy the chapter! Next up is D3! :D

The blade of the axe buried itself with a satisfying clunk in the stump, the resulting jolt sending a shockwave through Fili’s arms. He wrenched the blade out, grimacing as his body protested. He’d lost track of how long he’d been out there but, given how he felt, it had been quite awhile. His muscles burned like they were on fire, his shoulders and arms ached and he was drenched in sweat. Leaning the axe against the stump he grabbed his shirt where he’d thrown it to the ground and used it to mop his face.

“You know,” a voice said mildly, “I’m fairly sure the elves like the Trollshaws. They might appreciate you leaving some of it standing.”

 Fili rolled his eyes, tossing the shirt down. “There are plenty of trees left.”

Bilba moved into his line of sight, her eyes on the massive pile of split wood next to the stump. “There are plenty more that have fallen I think.”

Fili snorted and moved to gather more of the wood still waiting to be split into smaller pieces. He’d cut it down earlier, trees that were already dead or dying of some disease or another, and spent hours simply dragging it to the clearing to be cut into firewood. When he turned back Bilba had sat on the stump and was giving him a challenging look.

Fili returned one of his own. “Why are you even out here?” The whole reason they had stopped for the day already had been the fact that Bilba had been lagging. Even with the extra supplies she was still caring for two infants and the journey was wearing on her.

She shrugged. “We were so close I thought I’d show Priscilla my parent’s graves.”

“I’m surprised Thorin let you come alone,” Fili muttered. His uncle had certainly kept to his vow in the days and weeks since he’d sworn himself to Bilba, staying close by her side but not interfering. He brought extra food for her, fetched water and kept watch near her while she slept.

As odd as it seemed, in all that time neither had spoken more than a few words to one another, mostly Bilba quietly asking him to do something or Thorin announcing his presence.

It was almost as if they didn’t know how to talk to one another anymore. Thorin would always look at Bilba or the twins with a deep longing while Bilba always looked back as if waiting, for what Fili wasn’t even sure she knew. Thorin never asked about the twins, though it was clear he wanted to, while Bilba, Fili was convinced, was confused about whether or not she should offer to tell him about them.

It was an odd sort of relationship between them, both behaving as if they stood upon a frozen lake where the slightest movement would cause the ice to crack beneath them.

“He followed us,” Bilba said, “but I asked him to escort Priscilla back to camp.”

“And he agreed?” Fili asked. Anger, thick and familiar, rose up within him.

“He didn’t want to,” Bilba admitted, “but we could hear you attempting to chop down the forest and I said if we were close enough to hear that then you were close enough to hear me screaming in resignation if something tried to eat me.”

 Fili fought a smile and failed miserably. “Nothing has tried to eat you in well over a year, if not longer.”

"Exactly,” Bilba said, “we’re overdue.”

"Pessimist," Fili accused without heat.

"Realist," she corrected, her tone matter of fact.

He noticed, for the first time, Bilba was holding a water skin. He held out his hand and she obediently gave it to him, sitting quietly as he drank and splashed some over his face, arms and chest.

“I don’t like being lied to.”

Fili returned the skin to her, raising an eyebrow as he did. “Excuse me?”

Her eyes met his, her gaze suddenly and inexplicably unreadable. It was disconcerting. They had been in close company for so long he felt he knew almost everything there was to know about her. To now find he couldn’t tell what she was thinking was…disquieting to say the least.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Bilba said, looking down. Her hands, resting on her knees, tightened, gripping the fabric of her trousers.

Fili crouched down in front of her. Immediately her eyes were locked on his once more, daring him to deny her words.

She already knew he couldn’t. Aragorn and Glorfindel had insisted the Nazgul were gone or, at the very least, far behind them.

It was a lie.

In truth the creatures had always been close, to close. Each day Aragorn and Glorfindel headed out and led them off, further and further away, once going so far as to reach a Ranger waystation which allowed them to bring back supplies.

But the servants of Sauron could only be fooled so long and every day they followed less and less until, of late, Aragorn and Glorfindel had barely needed to go out at all.

“You can see it in their eyes,” Bilba whispered. Her eyes went to Fili’s chest, tracking the brutal scar that cut a path down his ribcage and partway around his side. “It was the same look Kili had when you were hurt. Like if they just denied reality enough it would somehow change it.” Her eyes took on a hollow look. “But it can’t be changed,” her voice dripped with despair, to a degree he hadn’t heard from her before. “Nothing can stop them from coming.”

Fili stilled, his body tensing. This was wrong, very wrong. Bilba didn’t give up, especially not since Ash and Frerin had been born. She’d faced down a dragon for Mahal’s sake. She’d insulted Azog to his face, multiple times, and squared off against Trolls, wargs and giant spiders.

Contrary to what she might claim, anyone who knew her more than a day knew one thing about her with utter certainty.

Bilba Baggins did not do defeat.

He reached his hands out and grabbed hers, flinching at how cold she felt. It was a warm day, there was no reason for her to feel like ice.

“They’re just trying to protect you. You have enough stress already.” He frowned, his heart lurching at the vacant look in her eyes. “Bilba? Are you alright?”

She didn’t answer, her gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder.

“Bilba!” Fili said sharply. “Bilba!”

She flinched and shook her head. For a second an odd shadow seemed to pass over her face and then, in an instant, it cleared and she was herself once more. Life came back into her eyes and she gave him a small but genuine smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know what came over me.” She shut her eyes, squeezing the bridge of her nose with her free hand. She’d been having a lot of headaches lately. Priscilla believed it due to anxiety and the stress of the journey. Fili prayed she was right.

“You’re right,” Bilba said, interlacing her fingers with his. Her hand, he noted, seemed warmer, the skin more alive and less like the cold rock it had felt like a few moments earlier. “I’m sorry. Aragorn and Glorfindel are putting their lives on the line for me and here I am judging them for it.” She took a deep breath. “I just wish I knew what those creatures wanted or how they found me.”

“We’ll find out,” Fili said shortly. His legs were starting to cramp from crouching so he spun around and sat down, his back against the stump she sat on. He leaned over, resting against her leg. Bilba absently rested a hand on his head in response.

“Are you angry at me?”

The words were spoken so quietly Fili almost didn’t register them and, when he did, was half convinced he’d misheard. He tilted his head back to look at her. “Excuse me?”

She didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes fixed out on the clearing. “Are you angry at me? For not sending Thorin away?”

Fili sighed, turning to look off at the same nothing that Bilba was looking at.

“No.”

They lapsed into silence after that. Absently Fili leaned his head against her knee and closed his eyes, fatigue dragging at him.

No, he wasn’t angry at Bilba.

He was angry at his uncle.

And more than that even, he was angry at himself.

The second he’d been born, his mother’s firstborn, his fate had been laid out before him. He was Erebor’s exiled Prince, second in line after his uncle and the eyes of his people, and his ancestors, were upon him. He’d been groomed, trained, taught to be a leader, _expected_ to lead.

And lead he had. He’d governed the Blue Mountains alongside his uncle, learning, and earning the trust and loyalty he would one day need to reign in Erebor. The Blue Mountains were his training grounds. Erebor was to have been his reward.

Once Kili had been born Fili’s confidence had only grown. His little brother was always in his shadow, always looking to him, trusting his big brother to have the answers.

Fili had believed in himself then. He’d been confident, self-assured…reckless.

He’d been wrong.

When Thorin had announced the quest Fili had never questioned that he would be going on it, hadn’t been surprised when he’d been asked. It had been Kili who’d nearly been left behind. There’d been a huge argument over it, mostly between Thorin and his mother. In the end Kili had been allowed to go, but only after Fili had sworn to watch over him.

He’d seen it all then, laid out before him in his mind. He could see himself standing beside his uncle with pride, the Arkenstone clutched in their hands as they proved those who’d doubted them wrong. He’d envisioned himself marching alongside the armies, leading from the front as they charged the mountain, bearding the dragon in his den and emerging victorious to an adoring crowd.

He’d seen himself coming into his own, the Crown Prince of Erebor, proven at last.

His gut twisted and he shifted, pulling one leg up and draping an arm over it, his fingers clenched into a fist.

Mahal but he’d been such a fool.

It’d been _Kili_ who’d killed the dragon. Kili, his baby brother, the one almost not allowed on the quest, the one he’d sworn to protect. Kili and a tiny hobbit woman and he loved them both, he did, and every time he thought of it he felt a surge of equal parts pride and terror and, at the same time, such a strong sense of disgust it nearly choked him.

Because while his baby brother and a tiny, _pregnant_ woman had been facing a dragon down in his den what had he, the Crown Prince, the leader, the warrior, been doing?

Sleeping.

They hadn’t asked him for his help, hadn’t even considered it. They’d left him behind.

Why?

He hadn’t understood then.

He did now.

It was because they’d seen the truth, a truth he’d long ignored.

He wasn’t Fili the Crown Prince, the leader of armies, the dragonslayer.

He was Fili, the idiot who slept through his loved ones facing down dragons. Fili the fool, who couldn’t stop a monster from flicking him aside like an insect and dragging his baby brother away into darkness. Fili the useless, who couldn’t manage to avoid a Mahal cursed orc blade in Mirkwood and now bore the scar as permanent testimony to his own ineptitude.

He’d understood by that time.

He hadn’t before. Hadn’t given much thought to his long, long list of _failures_.

Hadn’t, until Thorin. Until his uncle, who had always claimed to believe in him, to trust him, to expect him to lead, had rejected his counsel. Rejected it so completely and so publicly that Fili wondered if the other dwarf had ever had faith in him at all or if he’d simply been tolerating him.

He’d argued, using every trick and tactic ever taught him and his uncle had rejected him at every turn.

And then he’d ordered him to throw Bilba out of the mountain and when Fili had argued that Thorin had threatened to cast him out as well.

His uncl – no, his father in all but blood, the only father he’d known outside of the shadowed memories of a dwarf long dead, had looked him in the eye and threatened him with exile. The dwarf he’d looked up to, adored, wanted to be just like more than anything in the world had rejected him so completely, so utterly that a year and a half later his heart felt as shattered as it had the moment it had happened.

About the only difference was that the pain, as time had passed, had slowly been replaced with anger. His entire life had been a lie. He’d been set up, led to believe he was one thing when he was really another.

The first seeds of rage had been planted on the journey home, watching Bilba as she suffered, knowing it was his uncle’s fault, and his own inadequacy, that had put her there. The seeds had sprouted, turning into a white hot, burning hatred while sitting next to her bedside in Rivendell, when she’d been unconscious for _weeks_ after the twins had been born. He could remember holding his breath every time her chest stilled, praying it would rise again.

It was his uncle’s fault.

It was his own fault.

He hadn’t been enough, not then and certainly not now. Every time Aragorn and Glorfindel left, every time the eyes of the others turned to him in simple trust he felt his heart clench and cold fear settle into his bones.

What if he got it wrong, again? What if he were caught sleeping again while danger threatened? What if his words failed him when _everything_ hinged upon them? What if he found himself by someone’s bedside once more and this time, next time, the time after, all the will in the world wouldn’t make them breathe again?

His uncle – Thorin’s presence made it a thousand times worse. He could almost feel his eyes, Dwalin’s eyes, boring into his back, questioning his choices, judging his actions, finding him wanting.

Always, always finding him wanting.

Not fast enough.

Not smart enough.

Not strong enough.

He wasn’t his ancestors.

He wasn’t a Crown Prince.

He wasn’t a leader.

He was simply Fili.

And he, simply, was not enough.

 

 ***

 

He must have fallen asleep at some point because he drifted back into awareness to the sound of Bilba’s voice speaking quietly over his head.

A familiar baritone answered and Fili opened his eyes to see Thorin standing a dozen or so feet away. He was straight backed, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

"What are you doing here?” Fili demanded, irritation at himself making his voice sharper. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He moved as he spoke, biting back a groan as sore muscles, locked up from inactivity, protested. Going by that and the length of the shadows he'd been asleep for far to long.

“You were gone long enough that it’ll be dark by the time you get back,” Thorin said. “The camp was concerned and sent us to ensure you were alright.”

Of course the camp hadn’t believed him capable of getting back safely, Fili thought bitterly. He looked past Thorin and saw Dwalin leaning against a tree. He wondered if it wasn’t more likely Thorin had been asked to come and Dwalin had come along out of a lack of faith in his leader’s ability to not get hopelessly lost.

At least Fili hadn’t inherited that particular trait.

Fili grunted in annoyance and got to his feet. He retrieved his shirt and draped it across the back of his neck, grabbed the axe and balanced it on his shoulder and then held out a hand for Bilba. She took it and he pulled her up, sliding an arm around her waist as he did.

“Sorry about falling asleep on you. Literally.”

She grinned at him. “It’s alright. You clearly needed it.”

Fili didn’t respond.

They headed out. Bilba made no comment about the woodpile as they passed it. After all, she knew as well as he did that the camp they’d made on Weathertop would make any light visible for miles.

They had decided at the time they made camp that there would be no fires that night.

 

 ***

 

Bilba walked quietly through the night, both hands wrapped around Fili’s bicep. Thorin and Dwalin strode along behind them. Bilba hadn’t mentioned to Fili the fact that both had been there a long time, much longer than he probably thought. Given he'd spent the day taking out his anger on hapless wood it would probably not have been a helpful revelation. When Thorin and Dwalin had first arrived they had simply taken up positions on the other side of the clearing and had left her alone. It had only been when the sun had dipped past a certain point that Thorin had finally spoken, waking Fili up in the process as she was sure had been his intent.

Overhead a fat, full moon shone down, washing the landscape in bright, silver light. Bilba appreciated it. She’d stopped being a fan of the dark a long time ago, after facing down Trolls, goblins, spiders and other foul things within its shadows. Not that she hadn’t faced things like that in the daylight as well but doing it with darkness closing in around her always made it feel worse.

The loss of the sun had lowered the temperature considerably and Fili’s skin felt cold under her hands but she didn’t tell him to put his shirt on. She knew she had a tendency to mother him and Kili, a fact they both allowed with no small degree of amusement. Given the closeness of their ages, however, and the fact he was currently leading them during Glorfindel and Aragorn’s absences she’d been avoiding it, in public at least.

Weathertop loomed ahead of them and she sighed. “Do we really have to stay up there? You know how I feel about heights…and the lack of railings.” She said the last through gritted teeth, her grudge against the other races of Middle Earth and their lack of proper safety well entrenched.

Thorin answered from behind her. “It was once a watchtower. It’s positioned so we can see for miles in any direction.”

"Which means it can't have railings?" Bilba muttered. At the same time she caught the undercurrent of tension in his voice.  He knew the Nazgul were still after them as well then. The thought was comforting, not that she had any intention of letting him know it. It meant there was one more warrior capable of making rapid decisions if the need arose.

“It’s placed so perfectly,” she said instead, “and yet it still fell. Not the greatest testament.”

"There goes that pessimism again," Fili said dryly.

"Realism," Bilba corrected. "I told you it was realism. I'm hoping being realistic will cut down on the things trying to eat me incidents."

"Given your luck I doubt it," Fili said, "but I suppose it's worth a shot."

"Thank you for the overwhelming vote of confidence," Bilba replied sarcastically. "Now who's being the pessimist?"

"Must be contagious," Fili answered, utterly unrepentant.

Bilba rolled her eyes and pulled herself tighter against him. Almost immediately she felt her spirits sag, as thought some unseen force were dragging them down. Unwelcome thoughts entered her mind, pushing out the happy ones she'd been trying to focus on.

She didn’t want to be here. It was supposed to be over. She was supposed to be safe.

“I want to go home.” The words slipped out unbidden, so low she doubted anyone had heard them until Fili pulled his arm free and slid it around her waist. She put an arm around his in turn and tried to quiet the way her stomach was churning, a heavy sense of dread settling on her as though they simply fled from the inevitable. The despair had been worse of late. She didn’t know why. She was usually stronger than this. The fact it kept dragging her down made her feel weak and that made the despair stronger. There was a very real part of her that wanted nothing more than to sit down and let the Nazgul take her.

If she were alone, if she didn’t have her children, Fili, Kili and the others, she very likely would have done exactly that.

She was just tired, she told herself. Just tired, scared, anxious, everything she’d believed she would never have to be again.

She wanted to go _home_.

She just wished she still had a home to go to.

 

 ***

 

_She was dreaming._

_The moon had disappeared. Everything was gone. There was only darkness. She stood up slowly, her body heavy, invisible hands dragging on her and pulling her down._

_There was a light far off in the distance. It flickered, changing and shifting in a way that was almost familiar._

_She moved forward, her feet dragging against stone. She should go to that light. She didn’t like the darkness. The light would help her. It would show her the way she should go._

_A dark shadow rose up before her, blocking out the light and she stopped. She reached out her hands and pushed at the shadow, trying to move it from her path but it held firm. She tried to go around it but it moved with her, blocking her in at every turn. Past it she caught brief glimpses of the light, beckoning, insistent; demanding. She gave a cry of frustration and swung at the shadow, desperately trying to remove it._

_Something closed around her wrist, an unbreakable manacle locking her in place._

“Bilba! Snap out of it!”

_The manacle shook her lightly, causing her to stumble._

“BILBA!”

Bilba jerked, the world coming into sharp focus. She was standing, how was she standing? She heard a commotion behind her and turned to see the rest of the party getting up, responding to…to…

For the first time she registered the hand holding onto her wrist. She turned back and found Thorin in front of her.

“Thorin?” she asked in confusion. “What--”

His eyes were dark, the expression on his face grave. Bilba looked at her wrist, still held in his, and shock rippled through her, so strong she actually staggered, her breath rushing out in a gasp.

She was holding a knife. Not just any knife but the one Fili had gotten her in Bree. She wore it in a sheath at the small of her back.

She looked back up at Thorin. “Thorin,” she asked, horror coloring her tone. “Thorin, why am I holding a knife?”

He never got the chance to answer.

An unearthly shriek split the air and Bilba’s heart stopped in her chest. Pulling away from Thorin’s grasp she darted past him to the edge of the ruins.

Down below, highlighted in the silver of the moon, were dark forms rushing on the tower from all sides.

“Oh no,” Bilba whispered. Fear thrummed through her veins, though very little of it was for herself. “Nonononono.”

She turned to look back, her eyes catching on where her boys still lay sleeping. Glorfindel and Aragorn had not returned and the fact the Nazgul were now there and they were not left her with a horrible fear of what it could mean for her friends.

She took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to ease the shaking rattling her body.

They wanted her.

They had always wanted her.

Thorin was looking at her, the look in his eyes a response to an order she had not yet given. He was too perceptive for his own good. That or he just knew her really well and she wasn't particularly interested in dealing with that train of thought right then, or ever. 

“Fine,” she snapped, before he could open his mouth. There was no time for argument. She stepped around him, looking to where Fili had drawn his sword and was standing next to Kili and Dwalin who were equally armed. Priscilla and Seth were crouched behind them, each one holding one of her sons, while Adalgrim was even further back, his terror evident.

The distance between them wasn’t so great but, at that moment, it felt like an ocean separated them.

“Fili!” she shouted. “Take care of them!”

She saw his eyes widen in horror. “Bilba, no!”

She ignored him. She spun and ran out to the edge. Thorin joined her and she glanced at him. “It’s a watchtower. There had to have been other ways down.”

He nodded. “There are. My brother and I used to explore up here before he died, when our father would travel to look for work.”

Bilba nodded. “Thank Mahal for dwarven recklessness.”

Thorin nodded to the left and she darted forward, her feet finding the beginnings of a path. She leaned over, no longer able to see the Nazgul but confident they were still there.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Witch Jackass! You want to throw me off another cliff? Come and get me!”

Thorin gave her an incredulous look. “Now who’s the reckless one?”

“Pretty sure it’s still you,” Bilba muttered. “Let’s go, you know the way.”

He nodded and moved off down the path, as fast as he could given the terrain and lighting. Bilba followed in his wake, praying to Yavanna her plan worked and the Nazgul followed her and not her friends, not her children.

They reached a small outcropping, a shelf of rock jutting out from the side of the hill. As they crossed it Bilba leaned over to look down. She still saw no sign of the Nazgul, heightening her fear. What if they split up and some went up after her friends and some didn’t? What if they ignored her altogether and attacked her friends simply out of spite?

Thorin stopped, so suddenly she walked into his back. A second later he had his sword out and she looked past him to see shadows striding toward them.

Oh, that’s where they were. Apparently Thorin wasn’t the only one who knew Weathertop.

Thorin roared a challenge and rushed forward. He lasted about a second, the lead creature sweeping him aside like the large dwarf was little more than an insect. Thorin impacted the wall of rock with a thud that made Bilba feel sick and then hit the ground, unmoving.

The two of them really needed to stop spending time together, Bilba thought with a near hysteria, if only because Thorin seemed to spend a lot of time unconscious in her presence, while she seemed to spend an equal amount of time facing death while he was unconscious.

The lead wraith advanced on her, the others hanging back, and she whimpered. She didn’t know how she knew, they all looked the same, but she knew, she _knew_ this was the one that had thrown her off the spires overlooking Erebor.

The Witch King of Angmar.

The one Gandalf had died to banish, albeit temporarily.

Bilba backed away, instinctively moving toward the rock face of the hill and away from the edge. She was rather tired of falling off of things.

“What do you want with me?” she demanded. “Why have you been hunting me?”

The thing that had once been human gave no answer.

Bilba risked a look at Thorin but he was clearly not getting up anytime soon and even if he did she doubted he could help.

This wasn’t Azog after all. It wasn’t something that could be fought by normal means.

Azog…

Memory surfaced, facing down Azog while standing over Thorin who’d been knocked out after idiotically throwing himself at the orc.

Bilba reached a hand up, closing it around the ring under her shirt.

Then the ring had given her an advantage, saving her life in fact when she otherwise would have lost it.

Could it do so again?

The Witch King was almost on top of her. There was no time to think.

Bilba wrenched on the chain, snapping it. She jerked it out of her shirt, grabbed the ring off it and slid it on her finger in one quick motion.

It was the biggest mistake she’d ever made.

The world grayed out around her but the Nazgul did not. Instead they were white, blindingly so, and instead of creatures under robes she now saw Men, old and gaunt, their eyes hollow and unseeing, skin stretched tight over their faces.

And now she also saw the knife the Witch King had been holding under the sleeve of his robe.

She stumbled backward but he was already moving forward, the blade a mere flicker in his hand.

Pain erupted through her shoulder, white hot and piercing. She screamed, high and shrill, even as the force of the blow drove her back. Her foot hit a rock and she fell, landing hard on her back.

Heat radiated along her nerves, sweat prickling on her skin. She felt something tugging at her finger and realized dully the creature was trying to take her ring off.

The ring. The ring she had given to Tilda in Mirkwood, meaning she hadn’t had it on her when she’d been dragged before the Witch King. 

The ring, that seemed to get hot and cold on its own yet somehow she never found it odd or thought to bring it up, that invoked in her a bizarre possessiveness.

It had been the ring.

The ring came off her finger but, without thinking, Bilba called upon everything she had and lunged for it. She felt it in her hand and then she was flying…and then falling, right over the edge of the small outcropping.

Given the number of times she’d fallen, or been thrown, off things, in the goblin tunnels, off a cliff and down a hill outside Bree, one might think she’d be as used to it as Thorin no doubt was to being unconscious.

One would be wrong.

The hill was sloped and she hit it with a thud, then she was rolling, end over end all the way down. Rocks and dirt tore at her clothes, sliced her skin, lit the wound in her shoulder with a new fire that had her shrieking in pain.

Through it all she kept the ring. It was hers, yes, but there was more to it than that. If the enemy wanted it then it was the very last thing she could allow them to have. Not when her children were in the world, not when it was their future at stake.

She hit one final time and then slid, coming to a stop crumpled on her side like a carelessly discarded doll.

Foolish, foolish, a voice she finally recognized as not being her own, taunted.

Shut up, Bilba managed to think back, before allowing herself to slip into unconsciousness.

It was about time it was her turn. Let Thorin be the one to fall off things. Maybe if he did he’d join her quest to bring railings to Middle Earth.

 

 ***

 

When she woke up she was on fire.

It burned through her, igniting her nerves, flicking along her skin, bubbling merrily in a pit of pure agony on her shoulder.

She screamed, fighting to get away from it, but hands held her and stopped her from moving.

She couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. There had been something hadn’t there? Something important. What was it? What had it been?

She was only dimly aware of someone being there and she tried, tried so hard to tell them.

Light washed over her, not harsh and biting like the light that surrounded the Nazgul but soft and comforting. The pain receded, just a bit, and her mind cleared.

She was lying on her back in thick grass. Around her were trees, not Weathertop then but the Trollshaws.

Glorfindel was leaning over her, his skin gray. The light shining from him was dim, almost out entirely in fact.

He was speaking but his words sounded distorted, her mind already starting to fracture again or perhaps whatever power he was using to hold her together was waning.

“Ring,” she managed to get out, or thought she did, it as hard to tell. “Ring.”

He frowned and asked her a question but it was too late, far, far too late. The wave washed over her again and carried her away and all the world cracked and splintered around her.

And then the ring was someone else’s worry, for a time at least.

But only a short time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilba and Thorin finally have an opportunity to have a much needed talk. It doesn't mean that everything is magically fixed but it's certainly a good start. :)

Bilba drifted to consciousness slowly.

She could feel a thick mattress under her and heavy blankets over her. Her body felt heavy, sleep dragging at her the way it did when she’d slept far longer and deeper than normal. Oddly her mind, foggy and muddled as it was from waking up, felt somehow sharper and clearer than it had since she didn’t know when.

She set that aside, trying to figure out how long she’d been asleep. Ash and Frerin must be hungry. She should get up and feed them.

She shifted, planning to roll out of bed and look for the crib, only to stop with a quiet gasp as pain spiked through her shoulder.

Along with it came a rush of memories and she sagged back against the mattress. She wasn’t in Bag End, hadn’t been for over a month. She’d been chased out by the Nazgul, hunted through the wild and finally cornered by them on Weathertop.

She opened her eyes to darkness, barely lit by silver moonlight filtering through a window.

Bilba sighed in resignation.

She knew that window and the bed now that she was more awake. It was her room in Rivendell, the one she’d stayed in while recovering from giving birth to the boys. She’d stayed in it so long she’d gone nearly insane. She’d finally begged Fili to get her out and he and Kili had responded by taking turns carrying her to the gardens on a daily basis until she’d been strong enough to go on her own.

Favoring her shoulder, Bilba sat up gingerly and surveyed the darkened room.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Movement came from the other side of the room and then a familiar, deep baritone. “Bilba. Just a moment. Let me get the lantern.”

“Thorin.” She curled her legs under her on the bed and frowned at how weak she felt. “Where are the boys?”

She didn’t have to specify which boys she was asking about.

“They’re here,” his voice stated from the dark, now several feet away from where it had originally been. “They’re sleeping.”

He had a tone in his voice she’d heard in her own a dozen times and couldn’t stop a slight smile from spreading across her face. “Which is parent speak for keep your voice down for Mahal’s sake before you wake them up?”

He chuckled. A lantern flickered into being, brightening until it threw the room into soft relief. Bilba could make Thorin out now, no longer dressed in the clothing he’d worn on the road but instead in a simple tunic and trousers, his hair and single braid clean and neatly redone.

A glance down showed she was wearing different clothes as well, a loose fitting white cotton nightgown. Her hair was also clean, the braid she pulled over her shoulder bound with the tight, flawless pattern Fili favored. When Kili did it he always tended to throw in a bit more flair, the braid just a bit more dramatic than necessary.

Thorin was beside her, arm held out. Bilba swung her legs over the edge of the bed, out from under the blanket, and settled them on the thick rug covering the floor. She slid her hands around his arm and stood up, shutting her eyes and gritting her teeth as nausea and dizziness rolled through her in waves.

“Oh, I feel perfectly awful.”

“Do you want me to get Elrond?”

Bilba swallowed, her face twisting in disgust at the taste of bile, and opened her eyes. She focused on breathing out through her nose and in through her mouth and the nausea receded a little. “No, I’d like to see the boys, please.”

He nodded and indicated the back of the room. Bilba could see a small crib there and eagerly started for it, leaning heavily on Thorin as she did.

As promised, Ash and Frerin were there. Bilba had known they would be, knew Thorin wouldn’t lie to her about it, knew Fili and Kili would have protected them with their own lives, but it still brought a rush of relief to see them in the flesh, sleeping peacefully.

She braced her hands on the crib railing and studied her sleeping twins. “How are they?”

Thorin stood beside her, looking down at them. “They’re fine. There was no one available to wetnurse but the elves keep goats so they were able to provide milk for them.”

Bilba frowned. “How long was I out?”

“Slightly over a week,” Thorin said. “It took three days to get to Rivendell.” At her horrified look he sighed and said, “We moved as fast as possible. The boys were strong but…I would not have wished that on them.”

Bilba swallowed, memories of being locked in the Treasury invading her mind. “Neither would I. They’re too young to go through that.” She looked up at him. “Did you carry them?’

“I carried you after waking up.”

Bilba sighed. “How often did you get knocked out before meeting me?”

His eyes narrowed in confusion at the sudden change in topic. “Excuse me?”

“I certainly don't remember being knocked out all that much before meeting _you_ ,” Bilba said dryly, giving him a sidelong look. “The goblin caves, then Azog, then the battle at Erebor and now Weathertop. We seem to spend a lot of time unconscious in one another’s presence.”

A corner of Thorin’s mouth lifted and he shook his head. “I suppose we do.”

“We’re awful influences on one another,” Bilba concluded, “and now…now we’ve gone and had children together. Do you have _any_ idea how bad it’s going to be when they grow up? They’ll spend most of their time unconscious!”

“Or nearly getting eaten,” Thorin said. He gave her a hesitant look, unsure of himself.

Bilba sighed. “Oh, Yavanna, I forgot about that. We did nearly keep getting eaten didn’t we? I even wrote about it in my journal and you kept adding idiotic addendums.”

“Helpful,” Thorin corrected. “I added helpful addendums.”

“Agree to disagree on your definition of helpful” Bilba said dryly. She leaned heavily on the railing, studying the boys. “Having your luck and my luck combined they’ll probably spend their time nearly getting eaten while unconscious.”

Thorin shrugged. “I’ll assign a battalion to watch them, at all times.”

Bilba snorted. “I’m not sure that’ll be enough but it’s a start.”

Thorin nodded and they lapsed into silence, studying the sleeping infants. They’d kept their voices down as they spoke, mere whispers to prevent waking the babies After a few moments Thorin cleared his throat and said, “I didn’t carry them. I wanted to but I didn’t want you to think I used your injury as an excuse to go behind your back.”

Bilba rolled her eyes. “I never intended to keep them from you, Thorin. Just until they grew old enough they could defend themselves if you tried to take them.”

She frowned as she said it, the words sounding...wrong on her lips. The belief which had seemed so perfectly rational for so long now seemed almost ridiculous. Thorin had behaved like an ass, granted, but he’d never physically harmed her. He’d thought her a witch but hadn’t had her assassinated while she was still in Erebor or even during the two weeks she’d spent in Mirkwood. Fili and Kili had reported he’d been awake long before they’d left and it wouldn’t have been hard to find where she’d gone. He could even have had her killed on the battlefield and blamed it on the orcs, or had her followed on her journey home and killed her in her sleep on the road. If he'd discovered her pregnancy he could have had her abducted, spirited away and locked in the deepest dungeons of Erebor while he publicly claimed he had no idea what had happened to her. No one would have been in any position to challenge him, not without risking at the very least a war on the belief he had her.

He hadn’t made the slightest effort to do anything of the sort. In fact in a year and a half she’d never heard a peep from him or anyone associated with him. Not until he’d showed up and promptly saved her and Ash, followed them into the Wild with little to no supplies to guard them from the Nazgul and then stood between her and nine of Sauron’s most wicked servants to save her yet again.

Why had she thought he would hurt her?

Why had it seemed so perfectly rational?

Why did it seem so utterly irrational now?

A memory rose to mind, ice resting on her breastbone, a faint voice in her head that only now did she realize wasn’t hers, foreign emotions fanning her fears, trying to turn her against even Fili and Kili, a light calling her in the darkness…

Ice rolled through her veins and nausea rose again in her throat. Beside her, Thorin tensed. “Bilba? Are you alright?”

“Thorin,” she said, her voice weak. She pushed off the railing and turned to face him. “Please, please, please tell me I was dreaming. Tell me I didn’t attack you.”

His eyes, shadowed in the flickering light from the lantern, looked startled and then immediately reassuring. “You did not. You did swing your fists at me but I blocked them. At the last you pulled your knife but I caught your wrist before it had even cleared the sheath. You were never a threat.”

“That isn’t the point,” Bilba said, sharper than she'd intended. She shut her eyes, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I don’t…” Her eyes began to burn and her throat tightened. “I don’t know what was happening. I was dreaming…there was a light calling me and then a shadow wouldn’t let me pass and…” she shook her head. “I don’t know what happened.”

“You were not yourself,” Thorin said. “Glorfindel believes it was caused by the ring you were carrying. The one you found in the goblin tunnels.”

Bilba’s hand went to her throat and found it bare, no chain and certainly no ring hanging like a dead weight against her skin. “Where is it?”

“Glorfindel took it,” Thorin said, his expression darkening. “His reaction to nearly touching it was…extreme. He began to curse in what I am fairly sure were multiple languages. Of the ones I could understand he seemed most angry at himself for knowing about the ring and assuming it was simply a common magic ring rather than investigating it further. He wrapped it in cloth and had Priscilla carry it until we reached Rivendell where he took it back. I haven’t seen him since. Elrond was here long enough to heal you and then also vanished.”

Bilba let out a breath. “The Nazgul wanted it. It’s what they’ve been after.”

“Well,” Thorin said, “if that’s the case then it’s a good thing you no longer have it. They should leave you alone now.”

“I suppose so,” Bilba said absently. “Not that it’s any excuse but I think it was affecting me,” she said slowly, “in much the way your grandfather’s ring affected you. My mind feels clearer. I wasn’t even aware it was clouded.”

Thorin moved away from her, heading to sit on a padded bench against the wall. “You are able to recognize it the moment the ring is removed from you and accept it.” He leaned back, his face lost in the shadows of the room. “Had I only done the same instead of sticking to my idiotic pride, insisting I was on the right course even as my heart told me I was not, much would have been different.”

Bilba had begun to feel better, her body slowly settling and deciding maybe it would stay upright after all. Now she leaned over the crib and, using her good arm, carefully got Ash. He didn’t wake up but instinctively snuggled into her side.

She turned and walked over to Thorin and leaned forward to hold Ash out to him. “Stop brooding and hold your son, Thorin.”

Thorin’s eyes went wide and he sat up sharply. His hands came up and took Ash gingerly, like he was handling glass. He settled him, the baby’s tiny body nearly swallowed against Thorin’s arm and chest. Thorin looked down and Bilba saw an almost stupid grin spread across his face.

“Technically you’ve already held him before,” Bilba said, “but I thought you might want to do it when he wasn’t crying and you weren’t distracted trying to drag me back up a hill.”

He looked back up at her. “Ashrin? Or Frerin?”

“Ashrin,” Bilba said. “Your youngest. We usually call him Ash. He’s the most energetic one. I think he might have enough energy in him to wear out Kili once he gets older.”

Thorin nodded, focus already going back to Ash. “I heard the others saying their names when they were trying to calm them.”

Bilba’s stomach twisted at the thought of her sons being upset without her there, but there was little she could do about it. “It took forever to come up with their names. Ash is a good hobbit name but is strong enough to get him by among dwarves and then Frerin to pay homage to their dwarven heritage and their bloodline.”

“You gave them the ‘rin’ endings,” Thorin said, not looking up. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Bilba rolled her eyes again, apparently Thorin was just bringing it out in her, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I already told you, Thorin. They’re still your sons. I wasn’t going to be the one to take their father from them, even if I wasn’t thrilled at the thought of them finding out he was royalty and far more exciting than I was.”

That earned her a pointed look. “Given what you’ve been through since the first time you met me and the others I’d say your life is far more exciting than you think.”

“You may have a point,” Bilba conceded. She went back to the crib and got Frerin, carrying him over to switch out with Ash. “Here you go, your heir. You haven’t met him at all yet. He’s the calmer one and is hopelessly besotted with Fili. I’m hoping he and Fili combined might be able to help rein in Ash once they get older.”

Thorin traded infants with her with the ease of one who’d clearly had practice handling small children. Bilba settled on the bench next to him with Ash. “Thorin…” She chewed on her lower lip, fixing her eyes on the window on the other side of the room. “Frerin…he’s _your_ heir, not Erebor’s.”

Thorin gave her a confused look. “Why?”

Bilba turned to make eye contact with him. “You have no idea how much Erebor means to Fili. I don’t think _he_ entirely understood it until it was taken from him.”

There was no malice in her voice as she spoke. She wasn’t trying to hurt him. She simply wanted him to understand.

“Erebor is _everything_ to him,” she continued, “and if it went to Frerin I have no doubt Fili would smile and accept it and spend his life supporting him but privately it would _crush_ him. Frerin won’t care. I know he’s just a baby but I wasn’t joking about how much he loves Fili. The two of them have a bond so strong I’m actually jealous of it sometimes.” She’d been talking so fast she’d run out of breath and paused a moment to catch it. “I won’t be the person who takes Erebor from Fili, not after all he's done for me.” She shot a sideways glance at Thorin. “Though I am, of course, assuming you wish to give it back to him.”

“It’s always been his,” Thorin responded. He looked down at Frerin. “I knew it was important to him but I failed to see just how much.” His gaze met hers again. “Is that why he and Kili prefer to pretend I don’t exist?”

“It’s part of it,” Bilba agreed, “but I think his anger goes much deeper than that. I’ve tried to talk to him about it but he’s not interested in discussing it. As for Kili, he is angry but I think much of it stems from loyalty to his brother, and me I suppose. I don’t think he’s as far away from you as you might believe.” She leaned back and rested her head against the wall. “I’ll let you tell Fili he’s reinstated and still the Crown Prince. That should do a lot to get you back in Kili’s good graces and hopefully get through to Fili a little, maybe enough that he might actually start talking to you.”

Thorin studied her. “You don’t have to do that, any of it. I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

He was making her want to roll her eyes again. At this rate she was going to end up dizzy. “You’ve more than deserved it, you stubborn idiot. In fact,” she moved one hand off Ash and reached down, only to feel a flash of panic as she remembered she was no longer wearing her old clothes.

“What’s wrong?” Thorin asked.

“The braid!” Bilba said. “I don’t have it.”

“I have it,” Thorin said. “It’s in my quarters.” Bilba sagged in relief and he shook his head, amused. “It wouldn’t have been so very bad if you’d lost it. Mahal looks at intent, losing it is quite different from deliberately casting it aside. I would have just made you another one.”

“That’s good.” Bilba took a deep breath. “Anyway, you having it saves me the trouble of giving it back to you.”

Thorin went still beside her. “Bilba--”

“I had a lot of hurt in the beginning,” Bilba said, cutting him off, “and anger. If you’d come immediately after I left Erebor I probably would have started crying and run off.” She shook her head at how different she’d been back then. Priscilla had mentioned she’d come home older and wiser and Bilba desperately hoped it was true. She knew she was calmer, less prone to panic, particularly now without the ring on. She felt less afraid of Thorin, less conviction she was somehow unworthy of him. “If you’d come later, during the journey home I’d probably have thrown something at you.” She frowned. “The paranoia soon took over though, the conviction you were going to show up and somehow take the boys from me. It started in Mirkwood, maybe even before that, and grew until it was so overwhelming it covered all other emotion.”

She paused, trying to organize her thoughts, picking through what she actually felt now that the ring’s influence was no longer clouding her mind. It was amazing how fast she could do it now that she knew it _had_ been affecting her. She wondered if that was part of it, whatever _it_ was. Would it be able to influence her so easily now that she knew about it and would be on guard against it?

She blinked, startled at her own line of thought. Why was she thinking she’d be anywhere near it again? The ring was gone, in hands stronger and wiser than hers. They would know what to do with it, how to stand against those that sought it for whatever reason. She and her sons would be gone, as far as she could possibly take them until nothing evil or dark could ever touch them.

“Anyway,” she continued, realizing she’d been sitting in silence for several long minutes. “Once you arrived that same fear and paranoia was still there. I began to question if I’d ever known you at all, if the Thorin I’d met on the road wasn’t the real one but just a façade that came off as soon as you entered Erebor.” She shook her head, laughing bitterly at herself. “This in spite of the fact that I recognized how well raised Fili and Kili were, how you behaved on the road, how well the Blue Mountains were doing. I had all the evidence in front of me but still feared somehow, someway I’d been misled.”

“It was the ring,” Thorin said. “It took your emotions and twisted them, corrupted them, as my grandfather’s ring did mind, though to a much greater extent it would seem. I would guess the ring is one of the lost rings of power, as mine was. Probably one of the dwarven ones given how few we were able to hang onto, though I have never heard of one so plainly made.”

Bilba shuddered, disgusted at having carried that thing, at having had it so close to her infants. “I understand now, more of what you were going through.”

“Perhaps while I was wearing the ring,” Thorin agreed. “But Fili took it from me and got rid of it. Once that happened its influence over me was gone just as this ring’s influence over you was as soon as it was removed from you. My actions after that were my own, borne from my own pride and stubbornness, my refusal to accept I could be…manipulated as my father and grandfather both were.”

Bilba flinched, the memory of him roaring words along those lines at her in the mountain. She took a deep breath, settling her nerves. “We’ve both made mistakes, enough for a lifetime. We should have died a dozen times over. You saved my life several times just as I saved yours.”

“And in return I caused you to suffer,” Thorin said bitterly. “You had to travel home while carrying my twins, nearly died giving birth to them.”

“None of that’s on you,” Bilba said sharply. “You didn’t know I was pregnant.”

She left out the fact that, in their haste to save her life, the elves had been unable to preserve her ability to bear children. Ash and Frerin would be the only ones she would ever have. She bore no animosity toward Thorin for that. Had everything gone perfectly, utterly flawless, and she’d had the boys in Erebor they still would have been far too big, her own body far too small. In all likelihood the outcome would have been little different, might have been worse, in fact, as the dwarves didn’t have the benefit of centuries of experience with difficult births and medical techniques. Had she had them in Erebor she could have died so, in that respect at least, Thorin had done her a favor in a twisted sort of way.

“But if I had--”

“You didn’t,” Bilba cut in, “which makes any speculation simply that, speculation. Stop trying to blame yourself for everything, Thorin. It’s greedy. I could have told you. I was in Mirkwood after all. What were you going to do? March on Thranduil to try and get at me?”

She’d actually feared exactly that at one time but, now, looking back on it with a clear and unclouded mind the entire thing seemed ludicrous. Yavanna, why hadn’t she figured it out? So much could have been different.

She laughed suddenly, realizing she was repeating the exact words Thorin had said to her. He’d once told her they were a matched pair, she was beginning to see just how right he was.

“What I’m trying to get at,” she said, “is that now that I can think clearly, now that the paranoia is gone, I find there’s little anger underneath it.” She stood up and moved to stand before him where he was still seated, holding Frerin. She cradled Ash in her arms and locked eyes with Thorin. “The realization I was so strongly influenced by a magical object, as you were, also gives me sympathy for what you went through.” He opened his mouth to protest but she rushed on, cutting him off before he could. “I know it doesn’t excuse you for what you did after but going by what your life has been to this point, how you treated me on the journey, as well as the fact you went to such lengths to come and seek forgiveness…” She gave a faint smile. “The truth is I forgave you a long time ago, Thorin. I just wasn’t able to fully see it until that cursed ring was gone. The braid, and Erebor, are yours. Return to her in good faith as her King. You’ve more than earned it.”

He was staring at her, literally stunned speechless which, for Thorin Oakenshield, was a big thing indeed. Bilba turned away and went to put Ash back down. Her burst of energy had proven short lived and was quickly waning. As she leaned over the crib she said, “Having my forgiveness, as well as returning Erebor to Fili, should go far to break the ice between you, him and Kili as well. I can’t guarantee they’ll forgive you immediately but it’ll put you on the path.”

“And what about you?” His voice said, cutting through the shadows separating them. “Will you return to Erebor with me?”

Bilba frowned and straightened, Ash comfortably settled back in his crib. “Do you need me to? Won’t they take the fact you haven’t been struck down as proof you’ve been given my forgiveness?” A thought occurred to her and she said, “I’ll visit, regularly so you can see the boys. We can probably work it out where you can keep them part of the year even, perhaps in the summer or winter.” Her heart twisted at the thought of handing one or both of them over for months at a time but they were as much Thorin’s as hers, he deserved equal time with them.

“That isn’t what I meant,” Thorin said. He stood up and approached with Frerin. He held the baby out and Bilba took him and settled him beside Ashrin. When she was done she and Thorin were facing each other, each with a hand on the railing of the crib, their sons sleeping peacefully under their watch. “I meant would you and the boys come back with me, at my side?”

Bilba sucked in a sharp breath. “Thorin.” She allowed her hand to fall off the railing and stepped away, toward the middle of the room. Once there she turned to look at him again, crossing her arms over her chest. She was starting to tremble a little from fatigue and desperately wanted to go back to bed but she needed to deal with this first. “You can’t…” She stopped and looked away as her eyes began to burn. And here she’d just been thinking how much more mature and grown up she was. She shook her head and gave a quiet laugh at her own inability to keep herself under control. “It’s been a year and a half. A _year and a half_. You…you broke my _heart_.” She’d still been facing away from him and turned toward him again. “You broke my heart and you threw me out of Erebor and said we’d never speak again and I _believed_ you. I had no reason not to.”

He was silent, partly lost in the darkness of the room. The lantern was somewhere behind her, placed far enough away that the light wouldn’t bother the twins.

Bilba sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I’m not trying to hurt you, or punish you, I swear I’m not but you need to understand.” She took a deep breath. “I got over you. You broke my heart and then you sent me away and I left. And I was hurt and I was angry and I…” She lifted her hands helplessly. “Thorin, it’s been a year and a half. I moved on.” She pulled her braid over her shoulder as she spoke, running her fingers over the pattern in it.

“Have you found someone else then?” Thorin’s voice sounded hoarse and Bilba felt a stab in her heart. She honestly had no desire to hurt him but she also didn’t want him having false hopes. Leading him on wouldn’t be any kinder than telling him the truth.

“No,” she said, “I haven’t moved on quite that far.” There also hadn't exactly been a lot of time, most of the last year and a half for her had been spent on the road or recovering in Rivendell. She frowned. “Speaking of which, I still need to yell at you for assuming I jumped in bed with your nephew the second we left Erebor, while we were on the road no less, with his _brother_ nearby. Lucky for you I’m far too tired do it at the moment.”

He stepped forward and lightly grabbed her arm, slid his other arm around her waist and helped her back to the bed. Bilba sat on the edge and slid onto the mattress, nearly groaning in relief at no longer having to stand.

Thorin stood over her and Bilba raised an eyebrow. “You’re looming.”

“Would you have thought a year ago that you would forgive me for what I’d done?”

She frowned, considering. “No,” she said finally. “I don’t imagine I would have.”

He stepped away, getting the lantern and lowering the flame in it until it was a bare flicker. The shadows deepened, the silver light from the moon becoming more dominant.

“And now you probably can’t imagine ever falling back in love with me.”

Bilba blinked, catching onto where he was heading. “Thorin, that’s not fair, to either one of us.”

He retrieved a chair she’d seen sitting near the crib and carried it over to set beside her bed. He sank into it and leaned forward, his eyes intense. “I’m willing to take the risk. You’re more than worth it. You always have been.”

“Damn it, Thorin,” Bilba whispered, “why do you have to say things like that?” Her body politely informed her it was done with the whole sitting thing and she carefully laid down on her side, and on her good shoulder, noting as she did Thorin had placed himself on the correct side of the bed so she’d still be facing him. “And why do you always have to be so stubborn? You can never just give up on something.”

He leaned forward, clasping his hands together and resting them on the bed. “Do you want me to give up?”

She flinched. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him until he’d come back and, now, the thought of him leaving again hurt. She reached out and rested a hand on his, her fingers lightly tracing along his knuckles. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’m not in love with you anymore. As to if there’s ever a chance…I honestly don’t know, Thorin.” She shifted and slid her free hand under her pillow. She started to pull her other hand away but he caught it in both of his. “What if you stay and I never feel the same again?” she murmured, fatigue tugging at her. “Or what if I meet someone else, or you do?”

“I won’t,” he said and she gave a tired chuckle.

“You say that now but we already agreed I didn’t think I’d ever forgive you at one time.”

“As you say,” he admitted but she could tell he wasn’t being genuine about it.

“Still as stubborn as ever,” she said quietly. “It’s not fair, Thorin,” she repeated. “Not to either of us. It just isn't.” She tugged her hand out of his and put it on the mattress. “If it’s about the children you don’t have to worry. We’ll work it out. You’ll be as much a part of their life as you wish.”

“It’s not about them,” Thorin said, his voice low. “I didn’t know about them when I left Erebor. I left to come after you and Fili and Kili.” He picked her hand up again and intertwined their fingers. “I understand the risks and I’m more than willing to accept them. If you’re willing, if you think there’s even the slightest possibility, let me try to win you back. I don’t deserve it, not after what I did to you, but I’m selfish enough I’ll ask anyway. I lived a long life without you in it and now I can’t understand how I managed even a single day of it.”

“Damn _,_ ” Bilba breathed out. She felt…affection for him, certainly, like what one might feel toward an old friend they hadn’t seen in a very long time, a certain nostalgia for something long lost. If he kept talking like that though…she wasn’t sure. She was exhausted, feeling grateful toward him for saving her, wanted a good relationship for the sake of their children. Not only that but she’d worked so _hard_ , so hard to put him behind her, to build herself a new life without him in it.

What if she risked it and there was simply nothing there anymore? Or, worse, what if there was and it ended badly? What if Thorin changed his mind? He said he wouldn’t but what if he got tired of her not responding fast enough and left? Or what if fate conspired against them as it so often seemed to do and let them have a second chance only to separate them again in some other cruel way she hadn’t even foreseen yet?

What if?

Thorin reached his free hand out and brushed some of the loose hair around her face back. “You’re overthinking. You have a tendency to do that.”

“You’re one to talk,” Bilba shot back. “They should call you the King of Brooding instead of the King under the Mountain.”

He laughed.

Bilba swallowed, fear lacing through her. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

His hand paused on her face, his thumb lightly running over her cheekbone. “What if it does?”

Sleep was tugging at her and Bilba felt herself sinking deeper into the mattress. She yawned and pulled her hand away from Thorin’s again, curling up on the mattress. The hand on her face paused.

“We should put a limit on it,” she said, her voice heavy with fatigue. “A year. That should be more than enough time to know, maybe even sooner. If nothing has changed then it’s unlikely anything will. You can go back to Erebor in the meantime, do your kinging thing.”

“And you’ll go with me?” The implied yes behind her statement clearly hadn't been lost on him, she could hear it in his voice.

Her eyes had closed but she managed to slit them open, focusing blearily on him. “I don’t know yet. I don’t know what Fili and Kili will say. I won’t abandon them. If they don’t wish to come then perhaps…” she paused to yawn again, “perhaps I can convince them to stay in Dale, help rebuild. We’ll be close enough.”

Thorin looked as though a massive weight had been lifted off him. “I’ll keep the braid off for the year and return the bracelet to you during that time as well.”

Somehow Bilba found the strength to roll her eyes again. It was important to have priorities and rolling her eyes at Thorin was fast becoming one of them. “Thorin.”

“Fili can take the throne in my stead for the year,” he cut in, “while I live in Dale with you and the boys. At the end of that time you can return the braid and I’ll be crowned”

Thus showing everyone, and most importantly Fili, who the heir to Erebor was while simultaneously getting to stay close to the mountain and her at the same time.

“You’re kind of scary good at this strategy thing,” she murmured. “I’m going to fall asleep on you now, so let’s assume we had a long argument on that and I ended up agreeing and now everyone is happy.”

“As you wish.”

She laughed. Her eyes were closed and weren’t going to open no matter how much she wanted. “It’ll be nice…to see Dale again...”

It’d be nice to have somewhere to go. Somewhere she wasn’t exiled from. Somewhere she had friends and wasn’t being chased by anything evil.

The ring was a worry but it was no longer her worry. Better minds had it. Surely they would be able to find out what it was and deal with it.

As for her, she would travel to Dale with the boys. She had no doubt Fili and Kili would agree to go with her, at least to Dale, if only because its proximity to Erebor would let them see their mother again.

Speaking of Fili and Kili…

“Thorin?”

“Yes?”

She spoke with her eyes shut, her body not moving. He’d removed his hand from her cheek but was still clearly very close, his voice coming from the chair next to her bed.

“Who’s coming next?”

“Priscilla I believe. Seth was in here before I was.”

“Can it be the boys instead?”

“Of course. I can get them now if you want.”

“No,” she murmured. “Go hold your sons. Just…after.”

He may have responded to her but she was too far gone to hear it. She drifted for a while after that, how long she wasn’t sure, until the feeling of the mattress dipping on both sides of her jostled her somewhat back awake.

On the journey home the boys had taken to sleeping close on either side of her. She could barely move the larger she got and it allowed them to protect her from any threat coming from outside the camp as well as help her if she needed to get up for any reason as she was far past the point of being able to do it herself. In Rivendell they'd slept on either side of her while waiting for her to wake up, terrified if they took their eyes off her even for a moment she'd slip away and be lost forever. Even after she'd awakened and been eventually moved to this room they'd stayed, there to give her aid at night when she was so weak she could barely sit up let alone stand. When Ash or Frerin would wake up hungry it had been one of them who would get up to retrieve them, bringing them to her so she didn't have to try and get them herself.

She’d become so used to it that her sleep often became restless without them at the very least in the room with her. It hadn't been a problem the short time she'd been in Bag End due to how exhausted she'd been from travel but she had no doubt she'd have eventually started struggling to fall asleep without the presence of other people aside from the babies in the room.

She was still on her side and snuggled close under the blankets to the person who’d laid down on top of them on that side. An arm slid around her back and she curled up with a yawn, throwing an arm across a slim waist and resting her head on a narrow chest.

Kili.

Behind her she could feel Fili’s side pressed along her back and she sighed allowed herself to sink back into sleep.

Things would be alright, she thought hazily.

It would be a good year ahead of her.

She just knew it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-dah! :D Sorry for the long delay guys. I threw my back out and it's taken a LONG time to recover (everyone told me it would take a long time but apparently my definition of long is much shorter than their definition of long). I did get a massive update out for D3 and now here is this one! I'm definitely doing much better now and am getting into the swing of things again so updates should start picking up again. I already have the next chapter of D3 going and the next one for HB is planned out in my head so we are well on our way! :D

“Have you completely lost your mind? He threw you out of Erebor! Into a battle no less! Are you forgetting how miserable you were on the journey back? For Mahal’s sake, you almost _died_ giving birth!”

Fili punctuated the last comment with a wild sweep of his arm and Bilba flinched at the show of anger. Kili was several feet away, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a worried expression on his face, his eyes flickering between her and Fili.

It had been several days since she’d woken and, in that time, her courage had managed to utterly fail her when it had come to telling the boys about her decision to return to Erebor. In the end she hadn’t had to as both had noticed Thorin’s sudden ease with coming to her room to see his sons, as well as the few times he’d sought her out to talk to her.

They’d shown up about ten minutes earlier to confront her about it and, as she’d feared, were not taking it well.

“He didn’t know about the battle,” she insisted, “or that I was pregnant. And I would have nearly died regardless of whether he’d exiled me or not. I’d have probably been in _more_ danger in Erebor than with the elves who have more experience and training in difficult births.”

Fili looked incredulous. “Are you _defending_ him now? Are you saying what he did was right?”

“No,” Bilba said in exasperation, “but I am saying he can’t be blamed for every single thing that happened.”

“That’s not what you’ve been saying since we left,” Kili said, speaking up for the first time since the two had shown up in her room.

Bilba sent him a betrayed look and refocused on Fili. The three of them were currently the only ones in the room. Thorin had asked to take the twins out to the gardens and she’d allowed him. It was the first time she’d sent them off together alone and it had been difficult watching them leave without her. She’d had to remind herself they were safe in Rivendell and Thorin deserved time to bond with them just as she’d had.

“I already explained that,” Bilba said, “It was that ring. As soon as it was gone it felt like my mind cleared.”

An odd expression flashed in Fili’s eyes, but was gone so fast Bilba wasn’t able to place it. She almost thought it had been guilt but dismissed it. What could he possibly have to feel guilty about?

“Did he talk to you?” she asked. “He said he was going to.”

His eyes narrowed. “Do you mean did he try to buy my forgiveness by reinstating me as heir? Yeah, he mentioned it.” His voice was nearly dripping with sarcasm as he spoke and Bilba felt her heart sink. In the year and a half since they’d been gone Fili’s anger had taken root deep inside him and she could see now just how hard it would be to dislodge it.

“He’s not trying to buy your forgiveness,” she said, holding up her hands helplessly, “he’s trying to atone.”

“You don’t know that!” Fili shouted. “As far as you know this is all part of some damn scheme he has!”

“To what end?” Bilba retorted, her own voice rising. “What possible goal could he have that would involve him leaving Erebor and swearing himself to me? Not to mention _you’re_ the one who said Mahal wouldn’t have allowed him to do it under false pretenses!”

“She’s right,” Kili said, breaking in. “He can’t do anything under false pretenses.”

“She forgave him,” Fili snapped, turning toward Kili. “It no longer applies.”

“It does,” Kili insisted. “He rejected the apology, or put it off for a year I guess. That leaves it still technically intact. Besides, if this had been his plan from the beginning it would mean he initiated the pact under a falsehood. Mahal would have struck him down.”

“I don’t believe this,” Fili said, “Now you’re defending him too? Has everyone in this place lost their mind?”

“What is this really about?” Bilba asked helplessly. “You know as well as I do he was affected, at least in part, by that ring he had. It doesn’t excuse what he did after you took it from him but he’s apologized, he’s trying to make amends, and I believe he’s being genuine. You’re not even willing to consider it though. Why? And don’t say it’s just what he did to me. I’m not stupid. This goes far deeper than that. What is it, Fili? What’s the real reason you’re so angry?”

Fili shook his head and let out a disbelieving laugh. “The whole world has gone completely mad, you know that? First we get exiled from Erebor, then the Shire, then the Mahal damned Nazgul show up and now, suddenly, you’re all for forgiving Thorin and going back to Erebor with him!”

“I'm going back to Dale, not Erebor," Bilba corrected, "but, yes, back to a place where Ash and Frerin will be guaranteed to have a roof over their heads, to have food when they’re hungry,” She stumbled as she said the last part, a twinge of pain hitting her. Though Elrond had done what he could the wound to her shoulder refused to heal entirely. This suggested some remnant of the knife’s poison remained within her and, as long as it did, she couldn’t risk passing it to the twins by nursing them. So now she fed them with the goat’s milk the elves provided, severing a link she hadn’t been ready to cut. She took a deep breath before continuing, “They’ll have other people who can look after them if something happens.” She looked at Fili. “Not to mention I’m sure your mother would appreciate seeing the two of you again.”

Kili shifted, his eyes going toward Fili, who remained quiet.

Bilba pressed on. “What would you have us do instead? Wander in the wild? Try to find work in Bree while caring for two infants?”

“We can stay here until they’re older,” Fili said, some of the heat gone from his voice. “The elves won’t mind.”

Bilba raised an eyebrow. “You want to raise them here, establish a home for them, and let them make friends, feel safe and connected, and then rip it all away for a life on the road?”

The more she found herself arguing the more the uncertainty she’d had about going back with Thorin faded. Being exiled from the Shire had hurt but had also left her excited at the thought of seeing the world but she was beginning to realize just how selfish and immature a thought that had been. Such a life would have been fine for her. She could live with uncertainty of where her next meal would come, if she’d be able to find shelter in bad weather, if danger would threaten her on the road.

There was no way she could have put her sons through it though. They needed, and deserved, stability. They deserved to know where their next meal was coming from, where they’d sleep at night.

Perhaps when the boys got older she could travel, even take them with her and show them the world, but it would be done right, safely, with the knowledge home waited at the end of every journey.

She couldn’t think of her own wants anymore, couldn’t pretend she was free as she’d once been.

Her sons needed a home.

She would give them one.

Fili was studying her, a mix of emotions warring in his eyes. He clearly wanted to keep arguing but also could obviously see what she’d said made sense.

He opened his mouth to say something, only to snap it shut again as a knock sounded on her door.

Grateful for the distraction, Bilba hurried over to open it.

An elf was standing there, looking like he’d much rather be anywhere rather than where he currently was. Bilba didn’t recognize him but that wasn’t so unusual, elves were always coming and going from Rivendell. She did feel a flash of embarrassment that their argument had clearly been heard outside the room, probably not leaving a great first impression on those who didn’t know them all that well.

“I’m sorry to bother you, my Lady,” he said, “but Lord Elrond wished to speak with you, immediately.”

Bilba nodded. “Of course. If you’ll excuse me for just one moment?”

He gave a short bow and she quickly shut the door before turning to face Fili and Kili again.

She took a deep breath, trying to center herself and then said, “If we stay here we aren’t leaving, or at least I’m not, not until Ash and Frerin are adults capable of making their own choices. That means we'd be stuck here for at least the next thirty years, if not longer. Is that what you really want? You were miserable during our last stay and it wasn't even one year. Not to mention you'll be separated from your mother and a title that rightfully belongs to you.”

Kili frowned. "Wait, are you saying now you want to stay?"

Fili blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I don't want to stay." Bilba snapped. "But you’re asking me to choose between you and Thorin." Here an edge entered her voice. "If that’s the case, then I choose you. You’ve earned that much, several times over.”

She stepped forward, until she was inches away from him, forced to look up to meet his eye. “But when those boys get old enough to ask where their father is and why he isn’t around you’re going to be the one to explain it to them, not me.”

Fili flinched. “That’s not--”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Bilba hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me it isn’t fair.”

She shook her head then spun on one heel and marched out of the room without looking back, shutting the door behind her with a bit more force than absolutely necessary.

The elf was standing a few feet away. Bilba gave a tight smile and fell in alongside him as he started walking. “Sorry about that.”

The elf shrugged. “Families often argue, it is the way of things.”

“True,” Bilba agreed. She clenched her hands into fists and focused on slowing down her breathing, letting her anger bleed out of her. "I imagine among the elves they probably don’t get quite as loud.”

He smiled. “You might be surprised. You should heard some of the fights Elrond’s children get into sometimes. I am Amrod, by the way. I never met you when you were here last though I have heard much about you. The young Halfling who left her home to take on a dragon for a people not her own. It is quite impressive.”

Bilba laughed. “I’ve heard some of the tales that have been springing up. They all seem to involve me killing Smaug singlehandedly with a dagger. I recall it quite differently, with far more screaming and running.”

Amrod smiled. “Tales do seem to grow larger with each telling. Eventually you’ll probably find you don’t even recognize yourself in them.”

“I already don’t,” Bilba said dryly.

As they had talked Amrod had led them deeper into Rivendell, away from the areas commonly seen by outsiders and into the inner courts where only the elves ever went. They rounded a corner and entered one of the larger buildings. Inside it was empty and, as they walked, Bilba noticed most of the rooms they passed appeared to be ones she’d typically see in someone’s personal dwelling rather than a space meant for the public.

“Is this someone’s home?”

Amrod nodded. “Lord Elrond’s. He both lives and conducts official business here.”

“Oh,” Bilba said in surprise. She’d never been to Elrond’s home in all the time she’d stayed in Rivendell, staying instead in the outer courts reserved for visitors.

For the first time an uneasy feeling began to stir in her gut. “Did he happen to mention why he wanted to see me?”

“No,” Amrod said, shaking his head. “He did not. We’re almost there though.”

They rounded a corner and Bilba saw they were heading out the rear of the building. Instead of it simply being forest, however, there was instead a large raised dais. Stone chairs ringed it, spaced at regular intervals, and a large column of stone rose from the center. The woods surrounded it on the far side, trees crowding right up to the stone while large statues loomed over it. It created an area that was both open and secluded at the same time.

Elrond and Glorfindel were standing in the center, deep in conversation with two other figures. As she entered, Elrond shifted and Bilba felt her heart jerk with recognition.

“Legolas! Beorn!”

The two turned to look at her and Bilba ran to meet them, trying to ignore the way her stomach clenched at the tight looks in their eyes.

Beorn and Legolas had left Rivendell about two months before she and the boys had. It had been sad but Bilba had been well on the mend and the two had homes of their own to return to.

She reached Legolas first. He was already kneeling down, throwing his arms around her and hugging her somewhat tighter than absolutely necessary.

The feeling of dread increased as Bilba found herself unceremoniously pulled away and tossed up in the air. She shrieked in surprise only to have it turn to laughter as Beorn caught her and nearly crushed the life out of her in a hug.

“Little bunny! How are you?”

“Fine,” Bilba pulled back to look at him. “And you? Why are you here? You should still be on your way home.”

“That’s good,” Beorn said, his voice rumbling, utterly ignoring her question. “Good, good. And the littler bunnies? The princelings?”

“They’re all fine.” Beorn set her down and Bilba glared at him, trying to pretend she wasn’t toddler sized next to the giant skinchanger. “And you haven’t answered my question.” She turned her gaze to Legolas. “Why are you here? What happened?”

“Nothing you don’t already know about,” Legolas answered. “Erebor is not the only one to use birds as messengers. Beorn has many friends. One of them found us, alerted us to the Nazgul’s reappearance, and their purpose.”

“We turned around at once,” Beorn said, “but my friend had been forced to search for us a long time, and was exhausted and injured by a hawk in the process. By the time he found us we were already behind and he was in no condition to come ahead and warn Rivendell. We came as fast as we could but were too late.”

“We are fortunate,” Legolas broke in, “that Glorfindel and Aragorn found out what was happening and were able to help you in our stead.”

Bilba suppressed a shudder. She’d already thought many times about what could have happened if she hadn’t been exiled from the Shire, or if Aragorn and Glorfindel hadn’t come to save her, even if Thorin hadn’t been in the forest to help her right when she needed it.

As much as trouble seemed to find her, so too did help exactly at the times she needed it most, almost as if someone were looking out for her. Unbidden, she found herself thinking of Azog after the goblin tunnels, of the voice in her head demanding she call for help, or even further back, surviving on her own in the wilderness after her parents died, somehow stumbling upon Rangers who’d guided her the rest of the way home.

“—the ring draws them.”

Bilba blinked, snapped out of her musing by Elrond’s words. “What? What was that about the ring?”

Elrond sighed, suddenly looking every bit the ancient elf he was.

“The ring you’ve been carrying, where did you say you got it?”

Bilba frowned and then recounted the story, sketching over her interactions with Thorin or his despair upon believing his friends to be dead and the quest lost. It was none of their business to begin with and, aside from that, Thorin would be humiliated and she had no desire to do that to him.

By the time she was finished she had them all clustered in a half circle around her, Glorfindel, Elrond, Legolas, Beorn and Aragorn, who’d arrived at some point and silently joined them. Amrod had vanished soon after showing her in, leaving her with people who’d always proven to be her friends but currently stared at her with such solemn, grave expressions that she found herself desperately wishing for Fili or Kili to show up and stand beside her.

“The ring you found,” Elrond said, his voice solemn, “It is the One Ring.”

“The One Ring?” Bilba asked dumbly. “The One Ring of what?”

Even as she asked it, however, she knew. She’d studied history. She knew all about the War of the Last Alliance, about Gil-galad and Elendil. About the One Ring, crafted by Sauron and imbued with his power, and Isildur, who’d held the ring in his hand and, rather than destroying it, had kept it, held it until it had betrayed him and he’d been cut down by the forces of darkness which were always and ever drawn to it.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly as dry as ash. “That ring was lost,” she whispered. “It’s been gone for…forever.”

“It has been found,” Glorfindel said, his eyes equally dark.

Bilba looked at him, desperation in her voice as she spoke. “You saw it though. You saw it. You would have known, wouldn’t you?”

“I am not infallible,” Glorfindel answered quietly. “There is no record of the ring turning Sauron invisible and if it did so for Isildur he never made it known. I never touched it and had no reason to think it anything but a common magic ring.”

Of course Isildur wouldn’t have made the ring’s power known, Bilba thought numbly, she hadn’t either at first. It was too great a tactical advantage. Announcing it would have nullified it, at least in part.

She pictured the ring, a simple gold band that she’d worn next to her heart for probably close to two years. She’d never allowed the twins to play with it, feeling far too possessive over it, thank Yavanna. She’d seen no sign of any strange behavior from them, no hint of evil or darkness had touched them, no matter how close they’d been to it thanks to her.

“So it’s been affecting me then?” she asked. “Making me paranoid and then…then on Weathertop, it tried to send me to the Nazgul?”

“Yes,” Glorfindel said simply.

“Okay.” She was shaking and wrapped her arms around her chest, suddenly cold in spite of the warmth of the afternoon. “So…so what do we do? Can we just…I don’t know…melt it? You have forges, right?”

“The ring cannot be melted,” Elrond said gently, “save in the fire it was created in, or possibly by the fire of one of the great wyrms, of which there are none left alive.”

“Oh, sure, now you tell me,” Bilba muttered. “That might have been nice to know before Kili put an arrow in the last one’s eye.” She tightened her grip, nervously tapping her foot. “Okay, so what about the fire it was made in? Where is that?”

She should know that but her mind was failing her at the moment, preferring to go blank in shock, still trying to process the fact she’d been wearing the One Ring of legend, the ring that had been on Sauron’s finger, around her throat for two years.

She suddenly felt the strong desire to go take a bath, and perhaps burn all her clothing.

“Mordor,” Legolas said shortly, “in the fires of Mount Doom.”

“Oh.” Bilba focused on her feet. “Well that won’t work then, will it? What about just smashing it or throwing it in a river or the ocean or something?”

“There are no weapons created by Man, Elf or Dwarf that will destroy the ring,” Elrond said grimly, “And the ring has a will of its own, and is clearly awake. It managed to find its way this far on its own, after being lost since the Second Age. Even if we threw it in the sea I fear it would somehow, someway find its way back again.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Bilba’s voice rose and she jerked her eyes up to focus on Elrond. “Why not just leave it here? Put it in a box and bury it in the center of Rivendell. Wouldn’t that fix the problem?” Her voice held a note of hysteria and she saw all of their gazes shift to sympathy.

“The Nazgul know where it is,” Elrond said. “They surround Rivendell even as we speak. My power is keeping them at bay for now but it will not last forever. Sauron will turn all his attention to us and, eventually, we will fall.”

Bilba turned to look at Beorn but he was already shaking his head. “The creatures sense the ring. If we tried to take it from here and bury it elsewhere they would simply follow the one who carried it, kill them, and take the ring to their master.”

“Then what?” Bilba raised her hands helplessly, her voice cracking slightly. “Elrond, what? My sons are here, and you’re telling me there’s nothing we can do? There has to be something, anything. This is my fault, tell me what to do and I’ll do it but don’t tell me I’ve condemned my own children. Please.” Her voice broke and she sucked in a shaky breath, trying to regain control. “Please.” She looked at them one by one, pleading. “Just tell me what to do.”

“If we had the time we could send requests for help,” Glorfindel said, “to Saruman at least, and to Gondor.”

“It’s no use wasting time on what we could do if only we had more time,” Beorn said shortly, “we have what we are given, what will we do with it?”

“We may have been given more than you think,” Elrond said suddenly. He frowned, his eyes going distant for a moment as though considering something. “The finding of this ring affect us all, but it is not in our power to send word to the kingdoms, not with the Nazgul upon our very doorstep.”

Glorfindel’s eyes widened. “But we have representatives of every race already here don’t we? You are the leader of Rivendell and Legolas is the Crown Prince of Mirkwood. Bilba and her friends represent the hobibts,  while Oakenshield is the rightful king of Erebor and the dwarves regardless of if he currently sits on his throne. Aragorn is the rightful king of Gondor.”

Bilba’s head jerked back as she spun to look at Aragorn. “You’re the what?”

He gave Glorfindel an irritated look. “There’s no guarantee my father is dead. I’m the rightful heir of nothing so long as he lives, and I very much hope he does.”

Guilt crossed Glorfindel’s face and he nodded. “Of course, my friend. I am sorry for speaking so harshly. Regardless, though, you do hold a right to Gondor and, as such, possess the authority to speak on their behalf, at least in this case where we have little time and no other choice.”

Elrond nodded. “We should not waste any more time. The Council will be convened in an hour’s time. We will decide then what is to be done with the ring, if anything at all can be done.”

“Great,” Bilba whispered, shutting her eyes as despair washed over her. “We can just let everyone know Bilba’s gone and doomed the world all at once then. I’m sure they’ll all be just thrilled to hear.”

Someone knelt in front of her and she opened her eyes to see Aragorn as he put his hands on her shoulders.

“This was not your doing,” he said calmly. “Had you not found the ring it would have found its way into another’s hand, probably a goblin’s or orc’s, and then the outcome would have been quite different. You have not doomed the world, if anything you have very likely saved it, or at least given us a fighting chance.”

His image blurred as Bilba’s eyes watered and she gave a shaky nod. He stood up and conferred with Elrond for a few minutes before leaving. The others left soon after, Legolas and Beorn to rest and get cleaned up, Elrond, and Glorfindel to arrange the Council. They offered to escort her back to her quarters, or stay with her, but she simply shook her head, requesting she be left alone for a time.

After the area was empty she went and sat on one of the small chairs, studying the stone column where it rose from the center of the space.

She’d barely gotten settled when she heard a noise from behind her, in the direction of the hall leading back into Elrond’s house.

“I’m sorry,” she said, assuming it was one of the servants. “I’ll just be a few moments, if that’s alright.”

“It’s not,” a familiar voice said, “and you should be sorry. Just look at what you’ve gone and done.”

Bilba tensed, then stood and turned to see Adalgrim approaching. “What are you doing here? Were you eavesdropping?”

“Of course I was,” he snapped, coming to a stop in front of her. His hands were clenched at his sides and his jaw was set in that way it always got when he was absolutely livid. “I wanted to see what trouble your insistence on being just like your mother had gotten us all into now.”

The say he said “just like your mother” made it sound like a curse and Bilba bristled at the venom in his voice. “No one asked you to come Adalgrim, you did that on your own.”

“Of course I had to come!” he said. “My _parents_ went with you. I had to go to make sure they didn’t end up like yours!”

Bilba could almost feel the color draining from her face and she swayed slightly on her feet. “Adalgrim, I would never endanger Priscilla or Seth. You know that.”

“I’m sure that’s what Belladonna said about your father and Bungo,” Adalgrim retorted, “and look how well that went.” He took a deep breath, clearly trying to control himself. “Neither of you never _meant_ to do anything. But, guess what? Something happened and, now, look where it’s gotten you!” He took a step forward, getting in her face, his voice rising. “I told you, Bilba, didn’t I tell you? Don’t be like your mother I said. Be a hobbit, be _respectable_. But you just couldn’t do it could you? You had to go and be selfish and now look what you’ve done? You doomed the entire damn world! I have a wife and children! What am I supposed to do? How can I possibly protect them from _Sauron_ once he has his ring?”

“If you’re going to listen in then make sure you hear more than what you _want_ to hear!” Bilba shouted back. She moved forward, forcing him to back up. “The ring would have been found either way, if not by me than someone else!”

“At least if it’d been someone else it wouldn’t have resulted in the damn Nazgul rampaging through the Shire! It wouldn’t have ended up with my parents on some fool mission trying to keep you safe!”

“And what would you have had me do instead, Adalgrim?” Bilba hissed. “Run away like you’ve always done?”

It was an old, old argument, a weapon always laying at the ready for two people who knew each other so well they could injure one another with an efficiency and effectiveness few others could.

“I didn’t run away,” Adalgrim growled. “I went to Buckland! To get away from _you_! I couldn’t stand the thought of standing by and watching you get yourself killed like your mother did!”

They were in each other’s faces now, mere inches from one another. It brought to mind all the other times the two of them had fought. They had always been close, nearly siblings more than friends but their relationship had been volatile at the best of times. Bilba was outgoing and adventurous, or had been at one time, while Adalgrim was a stickler for tradition and being a proper Hobbit.

“You’re a liar,” she said coldly, “and you always have been. After my parents…after I came back I changed completely. I tried to be just like you. I _modeled_ myself after you. A perfect Hobbit, respectable in every way, except when it came to your cowardice. You didn’t leave until after I started noticing _Fram_.”

Adalgrim’s eyes widened. “You’re insane.”

“And you were never nearly as clever as you thought you were,” Bilba shot back. “I got your letter after you moved away. The one you sent ‘anonymously’ as if I didn’t know what your handwriting looked like.”

“Well if you knew it was from me then why didn’t you respond?” He asked sharply.

“Because you _ran away_ ,” Bilba said. “You left me, right when I needed you the most, because you were more concerned with yourself and your own feelings than with anything I was going through. I _needed_ you, and you _left_.”

Adalgrim’s hands clenched into fists at his side and Bilba watched as an array of emotions crossed his face, regret, fear, the same fear she’d seen in his eyes every time he looked toward his parents as they trekked toward Rivendell; guilt, anger.

In the end, as was often the case with Adalgrim, anger won out.

“Seeing how things turned out it’s a good thing I did,” he hissed, his voice low, “If I hadn’t I’d have probably ended dead in a ditch somewhere, that or sitting by while you got yourself knocked up by the first dwarf you saw, assuming you even know for sure which one it was.”

The crack of her hand hitting his face echoed around the small space. Adalgrim stared at her, the angry red imprint of her hand standing out vividly on his skin.

Bilba spun and ran, through the corridors of the house and back outside. She flew over the bridges and walkways, not even registering her surroundings or anyone she might have passed.

She ran until she reached Fili and Kili’s room. She hit the door, shoved it open and darted inside the empty room.

She slammed the door shut behind her and threw herself on Fili’s bed, the one nearest the door. She dragged the blankets down, crawled under them, curled up into a ball, and promptly burst into tears.

She couldn’t be sure how long she lay there, curled in a ball of self-imposed misery, before she heard the sound of the door opening and the clump of boots crossing the floor. The edge of the bed dipped and, for a time, there was silence.

“So,” Fili’s voice said finally. “Who exactly do I need to hurt and how badly? Aside from myself of course, as Kili so eloquently pointed out after you left.”

Bilba’s only response was to continue crying.

“Well,” Fili went on, “I suppose that answers the ‘how badly’ part. Now, the question is, what exactly shall we do to them?”

With that he started to launch into revenge scenarios, each one growing progressively more creative, and outlandish, as he went. Every so often Kili, who was apparently also in the room, would pipe in with his own addendums, taking whatever insanity Fili proposed and elevating it to an even crazier level.

As they spoke Bilba slowly calmed down, until she was simply laying quietly under the blankets listening to them.

“And _that’s_ where we’d add the caterpillars,” Fili said cheerfully, “followed by the ale and then the giant spiders.”

“Well of course,” Kili said sagely, “Doing it in any other order would just be ridiculous.”

“Oh, for the love of--” Bilba threw the covers back and sat up. Her eyes felt puffy and dry, her voice was somewhat hoarse and she was sure her face was swollen and red but they’d seen her far worse so she gave it little thought. “You two are forbidden from being alone around Ash and Frerin, ever again. You’re terrible influences.”

Fili gave her a brilliant grin. “I’m an amazing influence, just you watch.” His smile faltered somewhat. “Not so great a friend though, and for that I’m sorry. I had no right to yell at you like that.”

Bilba clasped her hands together and stared at them where they lay on the blankets. “It’s alright. I understand. It must have been a shock.”

“It was,” Fili agreed, “but it’s not excuse for how I acted. You are not bound by my feelings toward Thorin. You have every right to forgive him, or not, as you wish and if you believe returning to Erebor, or Dale, is the right thing to do, then Kili and I will support you and go with you.”

Kili, seated on the edge of the other bed, nodded vigorously. “And if Fili tries to act like an arse again I’ll simply hit him until he behaves. Or gets a concussion and forgets what he was arguing about, whichever comes first.”

Bilba laughed bitterly. “I’m not sure if we’ll be able to return, there or anywhere else for that matter.”

Fili frowned. “Why not?”

“Did you hear about the planned council meeting?”

Fili nodded. “We did, but not what it’s about. Do you know?”

“Something I did that can’t be fixed,” Bilba said, her voice so low it was nearly inaudible.

“Everything can be fixed,” Kili said.

Bilba sent him a tired smile. “You know that’s not true.”

Fili shrugged. “Maybe not but we can certainly try.”

“Even if you could, I doubt you can fix this,” Bilba said. “It’s too big, much too big for any of us.”

“Don’t underestimate us,” Fili said, his voice going serious. “We’re Durins after all. We don’t let things like size stop us. Look at Smaug, pretty much everyone said he was too big but we managed to take him down, didn’t we?”

“I seem to recall us nearly dying on that particular endeavor,” Bilba muttered. “Would you still be willing to take it on if I said it was bigger than Smaug?”

Kili got up and moved to sit on the other side of her bed. “You only have to ask.”

Bilba frowned. “And if I didn’t ask?”

Fili shrugged. “Then we’d do it anyway.”

Bilba moved, scrambling forward enough to throw her arms around him. She reached one arm out and dragged Kili in as well, digging her hands into their shirts. Both hugged her back just as tight before pulling away.

“So,” Fili said mildly, “What exactly did Adalgrim say to you anyway?”

Bilba flinched. “Who said it was Adalgrim?”

“He’s the one who’s been acting like he ate something sour ever since we left the Shire,” Kili said. “I don’t know who else it would be aside from uncle but he’s currently on his best behavior and has been almost unnaturally quiet.”

He didn’t seem to have even notice that he’d referred to Thorin as his uncle for the first time in…she didn’t even know how long.

She sighed. “Don’t leave the Shire and you’ll be safe.” At their confused looks she gave a small smile and continued. “It’s an adage every Hobbit is taught as a child, and repeats in turn to their own children. We’re not exactly warriors after all, we can’t fight the way dwarves can, or negotiate peace the way elves can or come up with devious strategies like humans. The Rangers look after us and as long as they do we can believe the lie that nothing can ever touch us, so long as we stay in the Shire.” She wrung her hands together, looking away from Kili and toward Fili. “Adalgrim already knew the outside was every bit as deadly as he’d been taught, he knew that because my family went out into it and I’m the only one who came back.” She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “Now, thanks to my leaving again, he knows the Shire isn’t safe either. He knows nowhere is, not really.”

“That doesn’t excuse his behavior,” Fili growled.

Bilba raised an eyebrow at him. Guilt flashed across his face and he looked away, crossing his arms defensively. “It doesn’t excuse it,” Bilba agreed, “It simply explains it. He’s in danger, his parents are in danger, the way he defined the world has been radically altered, and it’s all my fault.”

Fili’s eyes narrowed. “Bilba--”

“It was my fault,” Bilba said calmly, cutting him off. “I’m not saying I regret going on the quest. I’d have never met you two if I hadn’t and I wouldn’t have my sons. I’ll never regret that. But every action we take has consequences and this is one of them. It’s something that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t left. Adalgrim is right on that point and he’s angry but, more than that, he’s afraid.” She lifted her eyes, studying both of them. “He is very, very afraid and, with him, that fear most often comes out as anger. He’s always been that way.”

Fili made an exasperated sound. “You’re just going to forgive him then?”

Bilba gave him an incredulous look. “Of course not. He went too far, as usual, and questioned Ash and Frerin’s paternity. My only regret is I didn’t slap him harder.”

Fili and Kili stared at her, their faces blank. Then, in sync as they so often were, they stood up.

“Come on,” Fili said.

Each one of them took one of her hands and pulled her to her feet. “The Council meeting is going to start soon and we have things to get done first.”

Bilba frowned. “What things?”

Fili gave her an incredulous look. “You know what. We have to go kill Adalgrim.”

“You can’t kill him,” Bilba said with a long suffering tone, “He was my best friend until he took off for Buckland, still is in many ways. He was there for me right after my parents and Bungo died too, for awhile at least. He’s also married with a child and new baby and, if you killed him, you’d upset Seth and Priscilla.”

“Curse you and your logic,” Kili muttered. “How about we just beat him up?”

“No.”

“Tie him to a tree and hope a bear eats him? That wouldn’t be our fault after all.”

“NO.”

They’d started walking, her hands still firmly clasped in theirs. Fili opened the door with his free hand and they headed out.

“Fine, if you insist on taking away all our fantastic ideas we’re left with no other choice.”

“Indeed,” Kili agreed. “You’ve forced us to resort to the worst plan we can possibly think of, one that will probably have him wishing we’d gone with one of the others.”

Bilba stopped in her tracks, causing them to both stop as well and angle to look at her. “What are you talking about?”

Both of them looked serious suddenly and Bilba reminded herself, for about the thousandth time, that as young as they were and as much as they might act goofy or silly at times they were also blooded royalty and exceptionally skilled warriors in their own rights.

“It’s quite simple really,” Fili started.

“We’re going to tell his mother,” Kili finished.

Bilba blinked, started to breathe out in relief, and then felt a stab of horror flash through her. “Yavanna, Priscilla will kill him.”

“I don’t hear you complaining,” Fili said. He tugged on her hand and they started walking again.

“You know,” Bilba said, “I still don’t understand how you even knew I was upset over a person, let alone that it was Adalgrim. How do you know anyone made me cry and I wasn’t just upset for another reason?”

“Optimism,” Fili said. “Extracting vengeance from a person is a lot easier--”

“—and more fun--” Kili piped in.

“A lot more fun,” Fili agreed, “than trying to get it from an idea or building.”

“Not that we wouldn’t try,” Kili supplied.

“True,” Fili acknowledged, “It just wouldn’t be as much fun.”

“Or involve as many bees.”

Bilba’s lips quirked, just a little, and both beamed at her.

With that they launched back into absurd revenge schemes for the _next_ time someone upset her and, as they did, Bilba felt her guts start to unwind.

She still felt an overwhelming sense of dread, still felt fear and guilt and her heart still twisted inside her at the thought of her innocent, defenseless sons surrounded by Nazgul, with Sauron’s forces bearing down on them, intent on reclaiming his cursed ring.

But, for the moment at least, she was safe. She was safe and some of the wisest, and oldest heroes of Middle Earth were gathered there at that very moment, working on a solution. She couldn’t have asked for a better group, couldn’t have planned one better if given all the time and resources in the world.

She tightened her grip in Fili and Kili’s hands and felt their hands tighten in turn.

They would figure something out.

She had to believe that.

She had to, because the alternative was to terrifying to think about.

So she would believe.

And she would hope.

And she would pray that whoever had been watching over her through the darkest parts of her life continued to do so.

Because part of her was convinced, beyond reason, beyond logic, that a new path was beginning to unfurl ahead of her.

And it would be the darkest of them all.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter! :D

Bilba walked slowly down the steps into the garden. It was one of the smallest and set the farthest from the main population center of Rivendell. Large walls of stone enclosed the space in a circle, vines and ivy flowing over it and through cracks and openings in the rock. As with all the gardens in Rivendell it was filled with flowers, plants and even small trees of all kinds. There was a vague organization, enough to allow a cobblestone path and a few benches, but the elves preferred things as close to natural as possible. This meant, all things considered, there wasn’t a huge difference between the garden and the valley and forest surrounding it.

Being so far from the rest of the buildings made it exceptionally quiet and that made it a simple thing to hear, and follow, the sound of her sons laughing hysterically.

Rounding a bend in the path she spotted Thorin sitting on the ground with his back to a bench. He had his legs drawn up and had Ash and Frerin perched on them. He was holding them with a hand on their chests and as she watched he jiggled his hands lightly whilst, smiling broadly at them and gasping in pretend surprise. Each time he did it the boys reacted by bursting into peals of laughter.

Dwalin stood over them, a look of long suffering on his face. Bilba still had yet to speak to him. She’d seen him watching her a few times but he hadn’t tried to approach and she had returned the favor.

In many ways she was angrier at the Company than she’d ever been at Thorin. He had _some_ excuse, he’d been influenced by his grandfather’s ring. It wasn’t a complete excuse but it was something.

Dwalin and the rest of them had no excuse at all. They’d known Thorin was erratic and out of control and instead of stepping into protect him, and her and the Princes, they’d done nothing.

She might be able to forgive them but earning her trust again would be a long task indeed.

Especially when it came to Nori. That one had hurt. She’d been close to the others but, outside of the Durins, she’d been the closest to Nori.

She’d thought they were friends.

In the end, however, he’d stood by and watched Thorin throw her out of Erebor along with the others.

Bilba sighed, trying to shake off the painful memories. Thorin had asked her forgiveness and she’d given it, but it didn’t mean the memories or the pain just went away. She had to remind herself almost constantly that she’d forgiven him. Eventually she imagined it would get easier but, until then, she’d just keep reminding herself.

She stepped forward and Thorin looked up. A brief flash of disappointment flashed across his face but it was quickly hidden.

Bilba sat down next to him and took the baby nearest to her, Frerin she noted as she settled him in her arms.

“What’s wrong?” Thorin moved Ash so he was being supported on both his legs. Ash immediately reached up and grabbed Thorin's hair in both chubby fists, looking at his father like he’d just accomplished a great feat.

“I’m supposed to summon you to a Council meeting,” Bilba said. “Elrond and Legolas are representing the elves, Aragorn the humans, me, Priscilla, Adalgrim and Seth the hobbits and then you, Dwalin and the boys for the dwarves.”

Thorin frowned. “And why are we having a Council meeting involving representatives of all the races of Middle Earth?”

“Well,” Bilba said, her voice wavering just a bit, “probably because I managed to find the One Ring of power in a goblin tunnel and Sauron kind of wants it back.”

Dwalin made a noise that might have been a curse but she didn’t hear it well enough to yell at him for swearing in front of her sons.

Thorin went still. Bilba could almost literally see him transitioning from Thorin, father of Ash and Frerin, to Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain. She’d always been impressed with his ability to seamlessly switch between the different functions he held.

He got to his feet, holding Ash easily in one arm and reached back down to help her up.

“One of my friends from when I was here before, Freyla, has offered to look after the twins,” Bilba said as she got to her feet.

Thorin nodded. “Alright. Let’s take them back to the room and get this taken care of then, shall we?”

“You make it sound like we’re going to go decide what to have for dinner.”

His response was a cocky grin. “It’s a ring. I’m a dwarf. We’ll melt the cursed thing.”

“You can’t,” Bilba said. “Elrond said it could only be melted in Mount Doom.”

She didn’t mention the dragon fire thing. Glorfindel had said it was a slim chance that a dragon could have melted the One Ring anyway and she really didn’t want to bring up Smaug’s name and invoke other bad memories.

“Mount Doom?” Thorin headed up the steps out of the garden. “Who names a mountain Mount Doom?”

“Apparently Sauron does,” Bilba said. She sped up a little to keep pace with him only to have him immediately slow to match her speed. Behind them Dwalin followed silently though Bilba had no doubt he heard every word.

“Well there you go,” Thorin said mildly. “He clearly has no imagination. Stopping him should be easy.”

Bilba laughed. She didn’t know what it was about the Durins but all three of them had the singular ability to raise her spirits, no matter how dire the circumstances.

They went back to Bilba’s room where Freyla, a young elf maiden who’d helped her with the babies during her last stay, was waiting to look after them. Bilba got the babies settled down and then she, Thorin and Dwalin headed for the Council meeting.

As they neared Elrond’s residence Bilba saw Priscilla waiting outside. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was tapping one foot, a classic sign she was angry. Adalgrim was standing next to her, looking equally annoyed but also somewhat guilty. Bilba could see his face was still red where she’d hit him and she felt a slight twinge of regret.

But only a small twinge.

Priscilla nodded at Adalgrim and he stepped forward with a frown.

“I wanted to apologize for what I said to you,” he said grudgingly. “It was out of line and uncalled for.”

“You were always sorry when we were kids too,” Bilba said shortly, “But it never stopped you from reacting the exact same way the next time you got pissed off.”

The look of guilt increased on Adalgrim’s face but Bilba didn’t back down.

“I forgive you, Adalgrim, but I’m not putting up with it anymore. Grow up.”

She nodded at Priscilla and moved past them both to head into the building.

“So,” Thorin said as they moved out of earshot. “What exactly did he say to you?”

“I’m not telling you,” Bilba responded.

“Why?”

“Because you’d probably kill him and it’d make Priscilla sad.”

Thorin looked over his shoulder with a frown but Bilba grabbed his sleeve and pushed him forward. “This way, Thorin. Ring of evil. Fate of the world, remember?”

His arm was a solid rock, his bicep alone large enough for her to lay her entire hand flat on and still not find the edges of his arm. Regardless, Thorin turned in the direction she was pushing him, albeit slowly. “I can multi-task.”

“I’m sure you can,” Bilba agreed. “But let’s hold off showcasing that talent for another day, shall we?”

Thorin’s only response was a non-committal grunt.

 

***

 

Bilba sat with Fili and Kili on one side, Dwalin and Thorin on her other side.

Priscilla, Seth and Adalgrim, in that order, were seated after Kili while Aragorn, Glorfindel, Legolas and Beorn finished rounding out the Council.

No one was speaking, probably because Elrond had just finished explaining the significance of the ring on the pedestal in the center of the space.

Considering what the cursed thing had done to her, she wasn’t entirely sure putting it in the open was a good idea but telling Elrond such in his own house probably wasn’t the best idea.

“We could throw it in the ocean,” Kili said, finally breaking the silence.

“It was lost in water when Isildur was killed, according to legend,” Aragorn said, “yet somehow managed to find its way into a cave and now here. Who’s to say it couldn’t find its way out of the ocean and into hands less favorable than ours?”

“Are you sure nothing else will destroy it?” Seth spoke up, “Have you tried?”

“We did,” Glorfindel answered. “Fire merely causes the writing engraved on the band to appear and not even I was able to so much as scratch it with a sword or any other weapon at my disposal.”

“I couldn’t make it so much as bend,” Beorn added, “not even in my bear form.”

That they had tried at all was a surprise to Bilba. She always pictured the elves as all knowing but apparently even they liked to be sure on occasion.

“Fine,” Fili said, straightening in his chair. “So send it to the White Wizard. Let him handle it.”

Elrond was already shaking his head. “We will inform him, of course, but not even the power, or strength, of Saruman would be enough to hide or keep the ring from Sauron forever. We would not be solving the problem, merely moving it to a separate location.”

“So why are we here then?” Fili asked, his voice sharp. “If nothing can be done why even call a Council meeting?”

He was right, Bilba realized. She had already voiced many of the possible solutions before the meeting was called and Elrond had explained why each one wouldn’t work, the same explanations he was giving now. Why _had_ he called the meeting?

Elrond opened his mouth to answer, only to shut it again as a new voice spoke up.

“We should use it. Turn the ring against its own Master.”

Bilba looked at Adalgrim in horror, startled at the words. Beside her Fili made a noise and then muttered, “every time I think he’s reached the pinnacle of stupidity he goes and proves me wrong by finding an entirely new level.”

“Adalgrim!” Priscilla said sharply, “you saw what the ring was doing to Bilba! What do you think it would do to someone actually trying to use it?”

“You don’t know it would do anything!” Adalgrim argued back. “Maybe it wouldn’t be the same for someone else. Maybe Bilba was just too weak to wield it properly!”

Thorin, Fili and Kili were instantly on their feet, voices simultaneously raised as they berated Adalgrim for his words. Adalgrim got to his feet also, arguing right back. His parents rose to try and calm him while Legolas, Glorfindel, Aragorn, and Elrond stepped in to try and calm both sides.

Bilba watched from her seat, the raised voices swirling around her. Almost against her will she felt her eyes drawn to the ring sitting on the pedestal.

It was just a ring. A tiny band of gold that could change size to fit its bearer, make the wearer invisible, and corrupt the purest of souls to the darkest of evil.

For the first time she found herself thinking of the creature in the goblin tunnels where she’d found the ring. She still had no idea what he’d been. In appearance he’d looked vaguely like a goblin yet different. He’d been alone in that dark place, isolated from civilization, eating what he could find judging by the bones she’d seen.

Why had he been there?

Had the ring done that to him?

Her eyes flickered to Thorin. Somehow he’d gotten into an argument with Priscilla of all things though she appeared to be holding her own. Dwalin had gotten up as well and was in Elrond’s face, probably accusing him of planning something underhanded.

Thorin was a pure soul, she thought. Oh, he was far from perfect. He was stubborn and bullheaded, reckless, and didn’t always like to listen to counsel.

But, even so, he was pure. He’d wanted Erebor back for his people, not for himself. He hadn’t been in it for riches or for a crown. He’d wanted to see his people fed, to give them a place to call home. He’d led them from the front, not content to sit in the back and give orders. He’d been right there in the muck and mire with them, the first to face danger and the last to find safety. He’d been irritated at her presence in the beginning but had still placed her under his protection, still watched over her and made sure she was safe.

He was pure.

And look what a ring, not even the One Ring, but a lesser ring…

Look what it had done to him.

_Why even call a Council meeting?_

Because the only way to get rid of the ring was in Mount Doom.

Elrond hadn’t called the meeting to discuss options.

He’d called it hoping for volunteers.

Ice ran through her veins and nausea roiled inside her gut. She shut her eyes, running through the people at the meeting.

The elves couldn’t take the ring. If one of them were to be corrupted by it the resulting monster would be nearly impossible to contain. Thorin couldn’t take it for obvious reasons and she’d never wish such a thing on Fili or Kili.

Beorn and Aragorn would run the same risk as an elf taking it.

No, they needed someone who, if they were unable to resist the ring, would be easy to defeat. Someone they didn’t need fear corruption from for, even corrupted, they would be no threat.

 

They needed a hobbit.

 

She opened her eyes. Someone was watching her and she looked to see Beorn, the only other one still sitting, studying her from a few seats away.

The look in his eyes was one of pity.

He knew.

A strange…calm almost settled over her.

In a daze, almost as if she were watching events from another room, she stood up.

Slowly, with each footstep feeling like her last, she walked to the pedestal…and picked up the ring.

 

It felt like ice in her hand. At once the paranoia, the mistrust and fear assailed her again but, this time, this time she was ready for it. This time she knew it wasn’t coming from her but from the ring. She shoved the thing inside a pocket, relief flooding her as soon as it was, once again, no longer touching her skin.

 

There was silence.

Everyone was looking at her, their expressions ranging from confusion to stunned.

 

Bilba swallowed hard and, when she spoke, was proud to hear her voice only barely wavered.

“I’ll take it.”

Priscilla frowned. “What? What are you talking about?”

Elrond’s look was one of sympathy. Bilba couldn’t handle sympathy at the moment so, instead, she looked at Thorin.

He knew too, she realized. Not just what had to be done but the fact it was the only thing that _could_ be done.

Setting foot into Rivendell had doomed her or, even further back as Adalgrim had claimed, she had been doomed the second Gandalf had spoken to her at her door.

The thought of the wizard brought a wave of grief and the strong desire that he would just, by some miracle, show up at that moment.

He didn’t and she was left still standing where fate had placed her.

 

Alone.

 

“Intent or not, I was the one who brought the ring out of the goblin tunnels,” she said. Her shock was lessening. Her emotions were starting to return and if she didn’t get through this now she was going to break down in front of them all and what kind of image would that be? “I brought it out. It’s my responsibility and I’ll see it to the end.”

She would, because Adalgrim was right in some part.

She had brought this down upon them all and Seth, Priscilla and Adalgrim shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of her choices.

Neither should her sons.

Her eyes were burning and her nose was starting to run. She managed to make eye contact with Thorin and, in a voice that cracked and wavered, whispered, “Take care of them.”

Then, before any of them could say a word, she turned and ran.

 

***

 

Freyla stood as Bilba came back through the door, her eyes wide with alarm. “Bilba, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Bilba managed. She could barely see the other woman through the film of tears in her eyes. “I’m fine.” She brushed past her and gathered up both her sons from their crib. “If you’ll excuse me.”

With that she left the room again, hurrying as far from the buildings as she could get.

In the end, she went to the garden she’d found Thorin in earlier. Finding a far corner, she sank down between several trees and behind a few bushes, held her sons close, and cried.

Ash and Frerin lay quietly in her arms and when she raised her head to look at them both were looking at her with worried eyes. They weren’t old enough to understand what was happening but they knew their mother was upset and it upset them in turn.

“Sorry,” Bilba whispered. “I’m sorry.” She shifted Ash enough to allow her to wipe at her face, not that it did much good with tears continuing to fall. “See? Momma’s okay. I’m sorry.” Her voice broke again and she sucked in a sob. Ash’s chin was beginning to tremble and Bilba leaned her head back to rest against the stone wall behind her. Overhead, through the branches of the trees she caught sight of the sky, a brilliant blue with thin, wispy clouds drifting by.

Like it was just another day. Like she hadn’t just signed her own death warrant.

Thorin sat down beside her. He reached out for Frerin and Bilba allowed him to take the baby. He settled against the wall and sighed.

Bilba leaned over, wrapped an arm around his bicep, buried her face against his shoulder, and sobbed until the sleeve of his tunic was thoroughly drenched.

She cried until she had nothing left to give, until she’d sobbed so hard she nearly made herself sick, until her body sagged in exhaustion and she barely had the strength to hold Ashrin anymore.

Through it all Thorin stayed beside her, not bothering to give her empty platitudes like ‘it’ll be alright’ when he knew damn good and well it wouldn’t be.

Finally she found the will to pull away from him and sit upright again. Her breathing was still hitched and she was sure her face was horribly swollen and her eyes had the dry, itchy feeling that came with hard crying but, aside from that, there were no more tears to be shed.

“I’m surprised the boys let you come,” she said finally, her voice hoarse.

“We started to argue about it, realized we were idiots if we did and settled it the Durin way,” Thorin said.

Bilba sniffed and looked at him. “What’s the Durin way?”

“Flipped a coin,” Thorin said shortly. “I may have cheated. They’re waiting outside the garden. I can get them if you want.”

Bilba shook her head.

“It’s not the end of the world, Bilba,” Thorin said finally. “There’s no reason to believe the journey will be fatal.”

“It’s Mount Doom,” Bilba said, “in Mordor.”

Thorin shrugged. “It was a fire breathing dragon. In Erebor.”

“I think this is a little worse than that,” Bilba said, her voice cracking.

“I disagree,” Thorin responded. “I seem to recall you referring to it as a suicide mission given to me with the expectation that I wouldn’t be insane enough to try it.”

“I don’t think I used those exact words,” Bilba said but she nodded, conceding the point. She had expressed the sentiment a few times. “Do you know how long it takes to get to Mordor and back?” When he didn’t answer she leaned against the wall again and said, “About the same amount of time it takes to get to Erebor and back. So even if everything goes flawlessly, which we both know it won’t, I’ll be gone ten months.” She swallowed, feeling a new round of grief wash over her as she focused on Ash. “I’ll miss their first birthday, their first steps, probably their first words. I’ll leave them at eight months and won’t see them again until they’re at least eighteen months. Longer and I might not see them until they’re two.”

“They aren’t aging as fast as hobbits,” Thorin said, “you may miss less than you think. And they’ll still be young, babies as far as anyone is concerned. You’ll still have their childhood and all the rest of their years.”

Bilba rolled her head against the stone to look at him. “Will you tell me about what I missed? If I do come back?”

Thorin’s gaze was unflinching. “I won’t be able to. I’m going with you.”

Bilba’s heart jolted in her chest. “You can’t,” she whispered.

“I can and will,” Thorin returned. “You can’t expect me to look them in the eye one day and tell them I let their mother march off to Mordor alone.”

“Thorin--”

“You have no leg to stand on,” Thorin said easily, cutting her off. “As I seem to recall I tried ordering you to stay behind on the trip to Erebor and you argued, quite convincingly, that you were an adult and would simply follow in our wake if we tried to leave you.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice to just the barest rumble, what, for him, amounted to a whisper. “So I’ll return the favor. If you leave, Bilba Baggins, I will follow and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Bilba felt her chin began to tremble. Her body somehow managed to find a few more tears that escaped and tracked down her face. “What about the boys?”

“I won’t say I’m exactly thrilled at the idea of having elves looking after them,” Thorin groused, “but I have no doubt they’ll be well taken care of here. They’ll be safe until both of us come back for them.”

“You’d risk leaving them orphans?”

“In order to ensure them a world where they don’t have to fear the threat of Sauron? Yes.”

Bilba sagged. She settled Ash on her raised legs as Thorin had done earlier and held his hands to keep him in place. “If I were stronger I’d argue with you,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I’d order you to stay behind where it’s safe.”

“But--”

“But I’m not that strong.” A waver returned to her voice and she took a deep breath, steadying herself. “And the only thing more terrifying to me right now than having to go to Mordor is the thought of having to do it alone.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you won’t be going alone then, isn’t it?”

Bilba looked up sharply to see Fili and Kili standing just on the other side of the bush she and Thorin were seated behind.

“We got tired of waiting,” Fili said shortly.

“Particularly since Thorin cheated at the coin toss,” Kili added.

“Boys--” Bilba started but Fili was already cutting her off.

“We already told you back in the room, it didn’t matter if you asked or not. We’d do it anyway, remember?”

“And I swore all the way back in Erebor I would stay with you,” Kili added. “So you’re stuck with us.”

“And not just them.” More footsteps sounded and then Glorfindel, Aragorn, Beorn, Dwalin and Legolas were all standing there.

“The fate of the ring,” Legolas said shortly, “affects us all and though we may not be able to carry it for you, well see to it that your journey succeeds.”

“I can’t ask any of you to do this,” Bilba said. “You all have responsibilities, duties. You--” she said, addressing Thorin, “have a kingdom to run for Yavanna’s sake.”

“As I already said,” Thorin said with a shrug, “my sister is more than capable. Not to mention returning without her sons to inform her they were headed to Mordor would probably result in my immediate death, King or no king.”

Bilba studied him, and the rest of the group ringed in a half circle before her. Slowly her shaking began to ease and the barest thread of hope started to rise within her.

Of all the people in Middle Earth she could not have asked for a better group. With them it was just possible that going to Mordor wouldn’t be a suicide trip after all.

It was possible, just possible, they might actually make it there, and back again.

Maybe.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

She struggled to her feet. Fili and Kili both stepped forward to help her up. Thorin got up behind her and she moved forward until she was surrounded by everyone.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she said honestly. “It’s one thing to make the decision but quite another to carry it out.”

“We’ll get things ready,” Aragorn said. “You rest and spend time with your children. We’ll let you know when it’s time to go.”

Bilba nodded her thanks and they dispersed, until only she, Thorin, Fili and Kili were left.

“You should retire,” Thorin said. “You’re exhausted.”

Bilba nodded and began to head back to her room. Her entire body felt like it had doubled in weight, gravity dragging her toward the ground. She was also still more than a little bit in shock, the true impact of what was going on sinking in bit by bit. Once the full reality hit her she imagined she'd probably be in for another few fits of crying, at least. Fili and Kili started to turn away but Bilba stopped them. “You two need to come too." Thorin could be as optimistic as he wanted but there was no guarantee any of them would be coming back. Not to mention Ash and Frerin were far to young to understand. They would have no idea why their mother, newly met father, and Fili and Kili had suddenly up and left them. No idea at all. "You have to say good-bye to Ash and Frerin.”

Then, before the looks on their faces could bring about a fresh round of crying, she spun and started walking. Thorin stayed beside her while Fili and Kili came along quite a distance behind, discussing something in low voices.

“So much for a year of getting to live in peace while you tried your best to be charming,” Bilba said tiredly.

Thorin, to her surprise, gave her the smile that she’d always referred to as his half knowing, half smug look. “I have no intention of allowing a little thing like the possible end of the world get in the way of my winning you back.”

Bilba raised an eyebrow at him, convinced a  combination of fatigue and shock was making her delusional. “You’re not serious.”

“I assure you I very much am,” Thorin retorted. “As I already said, I can multi-task.”

Bilba shook her head. “You’re insane.”

“Not insane, just dedicated.”

“We’ll see.”

“Just think, at least this journey we won’t have to worry about anything trying to eat us.”

“I’m beginning to think the things that don’t want to eat us may be worse than the things that do.”

“…you may have a point on that.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter in Rivendell to get a few loose ends wrapped up and then they'll be on their way.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapta! :D I'm going to try and get 14 out this week too so it should be a quick turnaround. Things start really picking up after this so prepare yourself for action, action and more action! 
> 
> For my Hobbit style bday gift to you all this year I posted a completed seven chapter FairyBilba/Frerin story entitled "A Fairy's Tale" so it's up if you want to read it. Aside from that, here you go! :)

“Bilba? Can I speak to you?”

Bilba raised her head from studying Ash, who was sleeping in her arms, and focused on Priscilla. The other woman was standing in the doorway to her room, hesitating just outside the door.

“Of course,” Bilba said. “Come in.”

Priscilla stepped through the door, grabbed one of the chairs near the desk and dragged it over to where Bilba was curled up against her headboard. “Where’s your other son?” she asked as she sat down.

“Frerin,” Bilba said with a small smile, recognizing Prisicalla hadn’t been able to tell who she was holding. “With Fili,” Bilba said. “We’re trying to spend as much time--” Her throat clogged and she took a moment to gather herself. “We’re all trying to spend as much time with them as possible before we have to leave. Fili and Frerin are very close so…” she trailed off as her eyes began to burn, gesturing helplessly with one hand.

“I understand,” Priscilla said, her eyes sad. “I – I actually wanted to talk to you about them.”

“Okay,” Bilba said. In her arms Ashrin stirred, slowly waking up. He blinked, noticed his mother holding him and gave her a dazzling smile. He looked around, looking for his brother Bilba imagined, but, upon not seeing him, Ash was content to pick up the edge of the blanket and start sucking on it, babbling happily as he did.

“Seth and I have been talking,” Priscilla said, “and – well, we wanted to offer to look after the boys for you.”

Bilba blinked in surprise. “You have a family back in the Shire. You can’t stay here.”

“I know,” Priscilla said. “We’d take them back with us. I thought we could ask Lord Elrond if he would mind providing an escort… once it’s safe of course.” She hesitated. “I’ve heard the others talking. They think those creatures – the Nazgul – will follow you once they realize you’ve left. After that we should be able to go home again. I thought we could take the boys with us when we do.”

Bilba absently pulled her knees up, balancing Ash on them in much the same way she’d seen Thorin doing before. She wrapped Ash’s tiny hands around her fingers and he promptly began trying to pull himself up. He didn’t get very far but behaved as if he’d just slayed a dragon every time, squealing with happiness.

“I’ve been exiled.” Bilba reminded the other woman. “I can’t go back.”

“The boys weren’t,” Priscilla said. She shifted, rearranging herself on the chair. “And once you return you can come get them, no one is going to drive you away. Or you could always send their father or one of those Princes of yours.”

Bilba looked down at Ash, a hollow feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. “And what if we don’t come back?”

“Then we’ll raise them just as we raised you,” Priscilla said immediately. “They’ll be safe, Bilba. You’re going off to save the world. This is the least we can do.”

“I’m going to try and save the world,” Bilba whispered. She frowned. “They aren’t aging like hobbits, Priscilla. It may be decades before they’re grown and you--” She trailed off, not wanting to insult the other woman.

“I overheard that the other dwarf, Dwalin, is being sent back to Erebor,” Priscilla said. “I imagine he’ll tell them about the boys. Those two Princes of yours, Fili and Kili, they’ve mentioned their mother and I heard she’s the one currently in charge at Erebor. She did an amazing job with her sons and I have no doubt she’d do the same for Ash and Frerin. We can stay in touch, send them for visits and, if the time comes where Seth and I can no longer care properly for them we can send them to Erebor permanently.” She took a deep breath, having gotten all of that out in one, rushed breath. “They’ll be safe,” she finished. “They’ll have a long list of people waiting in line to care for them.”

Bilba suppressed a laugh at the tactful way Priscilla had mentioned overhearing the conversation between Thorin and Dwalin. Bilba was fairly sure all of Rivendell and the surrounding area had heard that particular argument. Thorin believed it was important for Erebor to know about the threat of Sauron and the ring as well as where he planned to be for the foreseeable future. He also felt the message was so important it was imperative it be delivered in person by someone he trusted and by someone Erebor would trust and listen to.

In other words, Dwalin.

Dwalin, on the other hand, believed his place was beside his king and best friend. It was his duty to protect Thorin and a quest to Mordor was pretty much the definition of something requiring his presence.

The argument had been two days earlier, when the council had taken place. Thorin had gotten his way in the end but things had been strained between him and Dwalin since.

She swallowed, watching Ash. The very last thing she wanted was for him to be raised by anyone other than her, but it wasn’t about her.

She started to open her mouth to agree only to stop as she remembered that Ash and Frerin had two involved parents now, not just one.

“I’ll have to speak to Thorin about it,” she said, “but, assuming he agrees…I think your plan sounds good. Thank you, Priscilla.” She gave a small smile. “I’ll have to show you how to tell them apart though first.”

Priscilla laughed. “That would probably be a good thing.”

It would be nice, she thought, for the boys to be in the Shire. They were half hobbit after all and there were more children there that they would be able to play with as they grew older. They would also be raised by people she knew and trusted rather than being looked after by all of Rivendell. She had no doubt the elves would do a good job but she would prefer they had specific people to look to rather than an entire group.

Priscilla nodded, her face relaxing. “Good. That’s good then.” She started to say something else but was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door.

Bilba got up, adjusting Ash so she was holding him in the crook of her arm. She went and opened the door and started in surprise at the sight of Dwalin standing there. He was dressed for the road with a large pack on his back and no expression on his face.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked flatly.

“Seems to be the day for it,” Bilba responded dryly.

Priscilla cleared her throat loudly, alerting Dwalin to her presence. She came up behind Bilba, clearly unsure as to whether she should stay or go.

“It’s okay,” Bilba said. “I’ll speak to Thorin.”

“Okay.” Priscilla put an arm around her, hugging her, before giving Dwalin a pointed look. He stepped back to allow her to pass.

Bilba also used the opportunity to leave, pulling the door shut behind her. The room had been growing stuffy and she’d been starting to feel the urge to get out. Now she sighed in relief at the light breeze. It was a beautiful day, she could almost pretend everything was normal and there weren’t Nazgul surrounding Rivendell and a quest to the most evil place in Middle Earth looming on the horizon.

“Do you know where Thorin is?”

“Elrond’s, I believe,” Dwalin said. “He and the rest of them are planning the route.”

Bilba started walking. Ash waved his hands at the trees arching over them, trying to grab the leaves as they fluttered in the breeze. It made Bilba think of him and Frerin older, scrambling up trees to play and her heart twisted.

Dwalin had fallen in alongside her and she took a deep breath and said. “I can’t do anything for you.”

He frowned. “What?”

Bilba sighed and stopped, turning to face him. “I can’t change Thorin’s mind about you coming with us or going to Erebor. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That argument is between the two of you. I’m not getting in the middle of it.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” he said. “I’m heading out now to go back to Erebor. I already spoke to Thorin and Fili and Kili. I wanted to speak to you last, before I left.” He scowled. “I know an apology is poor recompense but I didn’t want you going off to that Valar cursed place without hearing it anyway.” He took a deep breath, looking suddenly nervous which was not at all an expression she would have ever thought she’d see Dwalin have. “I’m sorry,” he said shortly. “I should have stood up for you and the boys at Erebor. I didn’t and I have to live with that. You deserved better, so did Fili and Kili.”

He stopped. Bilba waited for a few moments but he didn’t continue, no excuses, no “but this” or “but that”, no trying to spread blame or lessen his own. He hadn’t even asked her for her forgiveness, she realized. He wasn’t looking for anything from her or seeking absolution.

He was just apologizing.

Bilba sighed, a good portion of her anger at him dissipating much as it had done with Thorin when he’d apologized. Dwalin was trying to part with her on good terms. He knew how dangerous their journey would be and the very good odds that they wouldn’t return at all. He didn’t want to watch her walk to her potential doom without trying to reconcile with her first.

“I accept your apology, Dwalin,” she said quietly, “and I wanted to add my thanks. I never told you before. You and Dain protected me during the battle, at great risk to your own lives. Thank you.” It counted for something, a lot to be honest. He’d let her down with Thorin but not after. He and Dain would have had a far easier time of it simply abandoning her and focusing on their own safety. They had never even considered it, however, but had closed ranks around her and worked together to protect her.

He wasn’t perfect but, then, neither was she. She’d charged into the mountain to confront Smaug without consulting any of them, forcing them to rush in after her. It wasn’t the first time she’d made a mistake and wouldn’t be the last. Yes, he’d hurt her and she still felt anger and distrust but, in the end, people were willing to forgive her so…

Dwalin looked relieved. “The others considered writing letters asking the same but they decided you and the boys deserved to hear it in person. They were waiting for you to come back.”

“Please tell them I forgive them as well,” Bilba said. The words were difficult to get out, especially when she thought of Nori, but she forced them anyway. Now was not the time for grudges. She understand where Dwalin was coming from. They had all been her friends once and, if things didn’t turn out the way she wished, she didn’t want their last memories of her to be tainted with the knowledge she had died angry at them.

“I will,” Dwalin promised, “though I don’t promise they’ll accept it without hearing it from you personally.”

He lapsed into silence and Bilba shifted awkwardly. “Are you going to be alright? With the Nazgul around?”

“Elrond’s sending some of his people with me for a way,” Dwalin said. “But they don’t think there will be a problem. The creatures can sense the cursed thing, they’ll know it’s still here.”

“Of course,” Bilba whispered. They would feel when _she_ left and would come after her then. A cold feeling settled in her bones and she tightened her grip around Ash who obliviously continued to babble and reach for the shifting patches of light cast through the breaks in the trees.

She looked at Dwalin and found him studying Ash. “They do look just like him.”

Bilba smiled in affection at Ash. “Given our personalities I worry over how much of a handful they’ll be when they get older.”

“It won’t matter,” Dwalin said, “They’ll be cared for, here or in Erebor. Thorin’s sister will see to it, as will I. You have my word on that.”

Bilba blinked in surprise. “Thank you. Priscilla and Seth have offered to look after them as well. It’s good to know they’ll be safe in case…” She trailed off. She lifted her head and looked Dwalin in the eye, trying to convey a sense of calm and determination even though she felt the exact opposite. “I wish you luck and safety on your journey home, Dwalin.”

He inclined his head, the action looking more like a bow than a farewell gesture. “To you as well, Bilba. I’ll look to your return at Erebor, all of you.”

“Valar willing,” Bilba replied.

There was little to say after that and so they parted, Dwalin's steps taking him to Erebor while hers would soon take her to Mordor. It was somewhat strained and still awkward to say good-bye to him because, forgiveness or not, the wound was still raw but Bilba had hope it would be different the next time she saw him.

She had hope there would _be_ a next time.

After he left she continued on and, as promised, soon found Thorin in one of the rooms in Elrond’s home. She imagined it was normally used as a dining room of sorts for there was a large table dominating the center. Maps were sprawled out over it and Thorin, Elrond, Glorfindel and Aragorn were gathered around it.

“The message went out yesterday,” Elrond was saying, “with one of our fastest riders. With any luck he’ll meet you on your way and be able to give aid.”

“What are you talking about?” Bilba asked as she approached. Thorin noticed Ash and his eyes lit up. Wordlessly Bilba went and transferred the baby over to Thorin, who immediately settled him in the curve of one arm. Ash, already small, was nearly swallowed up by his father’s arm and Bilba idly wondered just how big her sons would be one day.

“We’ve sent word to Saruman,” Elrond explained. “The aid of the White Wizard will be invaluable.”

“We’ve decided to take a route through the Gap of Rohan,” Glorfindel added. “There is always the chance our message won’t get through and this route will allow us to go near Isengard and seek help in person if needed.”

“We can then cross through Rohan,” Thorin broke in. “The lands are relatively safe there. After that it’s a fairly straight shot to Mordor.”

“You make it sound so straightforward,” Bilba said, “but it’s anything but.” She frowned, studying the maps. “What side of the mountains will we be traveling on?”

“This side,” Aragorn broke in. “Glorfindel and I both have great experience and knowledge of the land here. It’s also generally far safer on this side of the Misty Mountains and it prevents us having to cross and add needless danger to our trek.”

“So we’ll be crossing through Eregion?” Bilba asked. “Won’t that bring us to close to Moria?”

Thorin caught what she was saying and shook his head. “There is a door into the mountain near where we will be passing but it has long been sealed and the orcs cannot open it. The battle that took place there many years ago was on the other side of the Misty Mountains, at the front gates of Khazad-dum. Though I can’t guarantee we won’t be bothered by orcs we won’t have any anything to fear from Moria itself.”

“Okay.” Bilba said. She knew Eregion was a quiet and peaceful, albeit rather empty land, as was Dunland after that, being populated only by the hillmen. The hillmen were a bit more dangerous but were scattered and tended to stay in the hills. As long she and the rest of the group stayed near the mountains they should be safe enough. From talking to Fili and Kili she knew Thorin and the other refugees from Erebor had lived in the area before eventually leaving for the Blue Mountains. She looked at him and asked, “Do you remember enough of your time in Dunland to get us through safely?”

“I do,” he said. He was barely paying attention, focused on Ash who’d decided his favorite pastime was gnawing on Thorin’s hair. He’d been chewing on a lot of things lately, which led her to believe he might be getting ready to start teething, another thing she’d miss.

Bilba tore her eyes away from the portion of the map depicting Mordor and let out a huff of air. “Alright, then it looks like we have our path laid out. When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” Elrond said.

It felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Bilba gave a small gasp and her hands convulsed in fists at her side. She looked at the floor, trying to gather herself and then lifted her head again. The others were staring at her, their eyes compassionate, and she turned away from them, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together otherwise. She put a hand on Thorin’s shoulder and tried to force her voice to remain calm and steady. “In that case, I need to talk to you about an idea Priscilla had, if you have a moment.”

“Of course,” Thorin said.

Bilba turned to leave and he followed her and with every step they took all Bilba could hear was the steady tick of her pocket watch counting down the final moments she would have with her sons.

It wasn’t enough time

It would never be enough time.

 

***

 

Thorin was agreeable to Priscilla’s idea, probably happy about the prospect of the twins not being raised by elves.

He returned to the council and she went to find Priscilla to let her know.

After she returned to her room. Thorin eventually returned Ash to her and Fili brought Frerin soon after.

She didn’t attend dinner, her appetite having fled. Instead she sat in her room next to Ash and Frerin’s crib and watched them sleep.

For most of the night.

She got her sketchpad at one point and drew them, wanting to lock down the final sight of them she might ever see. Once the drawing was done she ripped it out, folding it and slid it into an inside pocket of her vest, near her heart. She didn’t pack her sketchpad. It was unlikely she’d have much time to draw where she was going.

The candles burned out one by one around her but she couldn’t bring herself to leave her sons long enough to light them again. So she sat in darkness and listened to them or put a hand on their chests and felt them breathe. She tried to imprint everything about them, every last detail until it was engrained on her soul.

When dawn finally started to bring light back to the room, drawing her eyes to the large pack waiting for her in one corner, she was still there, watching them.

A quiet knock sounded on her door and she rose, wiping a hand across her face and trying to clear any lingering signs of the emotions she’d gone through the night before.

She expected it to be Fili or Kili, or possibly Thorin, and was startled to open the door to find Adalgrim.

“Adalgrim,” she said shortly. “I’m really not in the mood to deal with you right now. Go away.”

“I’m going with you.”

Bilba paused for a moment, sure she’d misheard. “You’re what?”

“Going with you,” Adalgrim repeated. “To Mordor.”

“I didn’t think it was to Bree,” Bilba replied, sharper than she intended. “What are you talking about? You’ve made it very clear how you feel about this whole thing, and about how badly you want to go back to the Shire.”

“I do want to go back,” Adalgrim said, “but it’s my world too. My wife and children who will be in danger if you fail.”

“And mine,” Bilba said, her ire starting to rise. “What? You think you’re the only one capable and you have to go with us to make sure we don’t screw it up?”

“I think you’re making a mistake,” Adalgrim agreed. “The ring is powerful, Bilba. Why do we have to fear these Nazgul or Sauron or anyone at all when we have it?”

Bilba tensed. One of her hands went to an outer pocket of her coat. Since realizing what the ring was she’d wrapped it up in a handkerchief, tied it with twine and put it in her pocket. She still felt its effects to an extent but not as strong as when she’d worn it against her skin and, since she knew what to look for now, it wasn’t as effective.

Yet anyway.

“I don’t believe this is you,” she said now, “I think the ring is affecting you, Adalgrim. It’s making you believe things that aren’t true, like the idea that the ring could ever be used for anything other than evil. It’s playing on your fears, exactly like it did to me, making you paranoid, convincing you everything is going to go wrong.”

At least she thought that was what was happening. The thought made her feel ill. What if it started doing the same to the others? Started affecting them and making them want to take the ring for themselves?

Damn it…she scowled and pulled her hand out of her pocket, having not even realized she’d had it curled around the handkerchief and ring. Immediately the fear and paranoia faded. Fili and Kili had been with her for over a year and had shown no problems around the ring, most of the others had been with her for months on the journey home or in Rivendell and had, likewise, been fine.

She had been affected in large part because she didn’t know what was happening and Adalgrim…Adalgrim was being affected because he was already terrified, already paranoid. The ring had seen the weakness in him and was exploiting it.

“You’re not _listening_ ,” Adalgrim said suddenly, taking a step forward until he was in her space. “You’re the one not making sense! You want to carry the ring straight to Sauron when I’m saying it could save us all!”

“Back off.” The voice came from behind Adalgrim, a deep, familiar baritone currently edged with steel. Bilba let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders coming down fractionally from where they’d been up near her ears.

Adalgrim stepped away and Thorin came into view, moving until he was standing next to Bilba.

“You aren’t going,” Thorin said shortly.

“It isn’t up to you,” Adalgrim responded sharply. “It isn’t up to any of you. That’s why we had the Council, right? So all the races of Middle Earth could attend? Well--” here he spread his arms, “consider me the representative for the Shire.”

“Wouldn’t that be Bilba?” a new voice asked and Fili was walking up with Kili a few steps behind him.

“She’s an exile,” Adalgrim responded. “The Shire doesn’t consider her a hobbit anymore so she can’t represent us.” He locked eyes with Bilba and, for the first time, seemed to see the fear that she had no doubt was in her eyes. Guilt flashed across his face and he settled somewhat, drawing back another foot from her. To Bilba’s surprise, he switched languages, from Common to Hobbitish.

 _“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you. You love your children and I love mine. I have a wife, a small child and a baby. How can I in good conscience go back home with the knowledge I might not have one in a few months if Sauron succeeds?”_ He paused, sticking his hands in his pockets, an old habit of his when he was trying to convince someone of something. He thought it made him look earnest. _“I disagree with your methods. I think the ring will serve us better used against Sauron rather than being destroyed. But that doesn’t mean I don’t agree that something must be done. If it is your will, and the will of the Council, that it be destroyed then that is what must be done. Just let me help. It’s my world too.”_

Almost against her will, Bilba found herself nodding slowly. Adalgrim grinned, reminding her of older, happier times, then spun on one heel and strode away.

“You didn’t do what I just think you did, did you?” Fili asked.

“He’s right,” Bilba answered. “I have no right to stop him. I doubt I could even if I tried.”

“He wouldn’t get far with an arrow in the leg,” Kili muttered and Bilba gave a sigh of exasperation.

“What is with you and shooting people in the leg, lately?”

Thorin frowned. “Who else did he want to shoot?”

“No one,” Bilba said quickly. “Come on, help me with Ash and Frerin. We have a long way to go. We best get started.”

 

***

 

It was a quiet group that gathered several hours later at the front gates of Rivendell.

Priscilla and Seth held Ash and Frerin and Bilba’s arms already felt so empty it was nearly physically painful. She struggled to keep herself under control, not wanting her sons’ last sight of her to be one of her crying.

Aragorn was off a way speaking to a young woman, Lord Elrond’s daughter, Arwen. Bilba had met her a few times and knew she and Aragorn were deeply in love.

Glorfindel and Legolas were talking to Elrond while, a few feet away, Kili and Fili were conspiring about something or other, their heads close together and their voices too low for her to pick up. Thorin stood off by himself and Beorn, in bear form, was lounging just outside the gates.

Adalgrim was by his parents, his pack slung over one shoulder. Priscilla was red eyed and Seth looked grim. Bilba could imagine how that discussion had gone. She stepped forward and hugged Priscilla, carefully, to avoid squishing Ashrin.

“I’ll look after him,” she promised.

Priscilla hugged her back. “I know you will. Your boys will be safe, I promise.” She paused, and then nodded suddenly toward Thorin. “I’m starting to think I may have misjudged him.”

“In my anger I probably didn’t help your perceptions,” Bilba admitted. She shot a look toward Thorin and then away again. “No one should have to be judged by their lowest moment, particularly when they had a ring helping them along in it.”

“True enough.” Priscilla gave a slight smile. “Had I known he was your type I wouldn’t have wasted so much time trying to introduce you to nice young hobbits in the Shire.”

“It was no waste,” Bilba said. “I didn’t even know he was my type.”

Priscilla nodded. “I hear he wants to prove himself to you. Are you going to give him a chance?”

Bilba gave her an incredulous look. “I’m not sure a journey to Mount Doom is the time for it.”

“It might be the only time you have,” Priscilla said, her eyes darkening, “don’t throw it away simply because of how it might end.” She gave a small, watery, laugh. “It’s your own decision of course, though, don’t mind me. I just want you happy.” She hugged Bilba. “I’ll see you when you return.”

When, not if. Bilba nodded, her eyes already tearing up.

The rest of the good-byes went quickly and then Glorfindel was stepping back and saying, “We await the Ringbearer.”

Bilba gave a tight laugh. “If the so-called Ringbearer were capable of getting herself to Mordor she wouldn’t need you lot.”

Glorfindel smiled. “Fair enough.”

With great age came great practicality so, without further fanfare, he simply started walking. The rest of the group fell in behind him and, just like that, the journey to Mordor had begun.

Bilba cast one last look at her boys and then deliberately turned away, setting her eyes in the direction of Mount Doom.

It was hard, her vision watering so badly she could barely see where she was going.

Arms slid around her and she saw Fili and Kili on either side of her, their arms wrapped around her waist. Both of them had eyes as red rimmed as hers, though they were doing a far better job of keeping it together than she was. Thorin walked a few feet ahead on her left, his face grim and his body set. To many it might have seemed he was simply determined but Bilba knew him well enough to recognize he was as upset as they were. He simply hid it. He was a lot like Fili in that respect, both of them feeling they needed to be strong and to set their own feelings aside in order to be a support for others.

For her part, Bilba had never been good at hiding her emotions no matter how hard she tried.

And, so, with every step they took farther away from her sons the more the tears fell until she was nearly sobbing. She kept her head up, her footsteps steady and stayed upright but only because Fili and Kili were holding her up.

The three of them fell to the back and the rest of the group gave her space, allowing her to grieve in as much privacy as could be afforded on the road.

And so began the road to destroy the ring of power and end the threat of Sauron.

A long road.

And all Bilba could do was pray it would not be her last.


	14. Chapter 14

It felt like the only thing Bilba did anymore was go to or from the other side of the Misty Mountains.

Off to face a dragon, back with the fear of a mad King chasing after her, off to face down the embodiment of evil itself…and possibly never to return at all.

She sighed, watching her feet. Step by step, the feel of grass and dirt under her toes, each step taking her a foot closer to the last place she wanted to go.

Maybe the final place she would ever go.

Mordor wouldn’t have grass. She’d read about it in the Rivendell library during her convalescence after the birth of the twins and, again, recently, when she knew she’d have to go there. There was nothing green in Mordor. No grass, no trees, nothing but dirt, sharp rocks, and death. It was cold there, though she guessed it would grow hotter near Mount Doom.

Mount Doom. The name had lost its humor now that the reality of her trek toward it had set in. She felt like she could already feel its shadow, stretching from Mordor to lay over them like a thick blanket.

Her foot caught on something and she stumbled, throwing an arm out for balance. Fili, next to her, caught her and held her arm until she’d righted herself. Bilba smiled, or attempted to, in thanks and tried to pay better attention.

She needed to shake off this melancholy but, so far, it had stuck fast. She knew at least a portion came from the ring, tucked in a bag in her pocket, but she found she had little strength with which to fight it at the moment

She wanted her boys.

She’d never been separated from them for any substantial time and now it had been weeks already and there were months stretching ahead of them. Her arms ached with emptiness and she habitually clenched and unclenched her hands, wanting to reach for her sons but knowing she’d only encounter empty air if she did.

She’d left them behind and part of her grieved as if she’d lost them forever. Even then, just thinking about them brought a familiar burn to her eyes and closed her throat. She dug her fingernails into the flesh of her palms, trying to force back the pain…the guilt…the anger at having to leave them at all.

She studied the mountains looming over them, trying to distract herself. They’d stayed close to the foot of the Misty Mountains, trying to avoid the Nazgul. As expected, the creatures had soon followed once the Fellowship had left Rivendell. So far Glorfindel’s presence had kept them at a distance but Bilba doubted it would continue forever.

They had fallen into a routine of sorts over the prior few weeks. Each morning Aragorn, Glorfindel, Beorn and Legolas would head out. Beorn scouted ahead, Legolas and Aragorn behind and Glorfindel attempted to keep the Nazgul at bay. So far they had kept their distance, or so Glorfindel claimed. Several times he’d returned looking disheveled or exhausted, and once he’d been limping. He always insisted they were okay and, so far, Bilba had chosen to trust him.

There was really no other option, in the end.

With them gone it left her, Fili and Kili, Adalgrim, and Thorin who had become their leader almost by default. He was the oldest of the five of them and the one with the most experience. On that first day, after the others had left, they had started walking on their own only to have Adalgrim demand to know when they would be stopping for second breakfast. Bilba hadn’t thought about it, having long grown used to three meals a day from her time with the dwarves and elves. She’d been trying to come up with a way to let him know they wouldn’t have time to stop so often when Thorin had simply stated they wouldn’t be eating until noon.

Adalgrim had looked ready to argue but Thorin was twice his size and his neutral expression was sometimes more intimidating than when he was _trying_ to intimidate someone so Adalgrim had wisely chosen to shut up.

Later, when Adalgrim had mentioned it was nearly noon, Bilba had looked to Thorin without thinking and he’d nodded and called a halt. When they’d started again he’d been in the lead and that was that. Fili and Kili, who still had yet to speak a word to him, tended to walk on either side of her and Adalgrim walked by himself glaring at everything and muttering. Bilba felt some compassion for him. He’d never been on a journey like this before after all and had probably envisioned a romanticized and civilized trip complete with picnics, leisurely pace and bird watching opportunities, but she was also getting ready to smack him if he didn’t shut up soon.

Thinking of him brought back memories of his parents and that led her right back to Ash and Frerin so, trying to get her mind off them before she fell back into a depression again, she turned to Fili.

“Do you know where we are?”

Fili frowned, studying their surroundings. They’d already passed the area where she and the others had come through on their way back from Erebor. That was a low, narrow passageway that opened into the Gladden Fields on the other side of the mountains. It was supposed to be a beautiful area rife with history, known for being where Isildur had been killed and the cursed ring first lost.

Bilba remembered little of it, having been far too miserable already in her pregnancy, and too worried and paranoid about Thorin. She regretted that. She wished she’d paid closer attention.

Fili’s eyes widened. “I think we’re nearing the gates of Moria,” he said in a low voice, his tone excited. On Bilba’s other side, Kili caught it and also perked up, equally interested. Both began studying the mountain, trying to find the opening in the rock that would lead to the gates into the lost kingdom.

A different lost kingdom, one she was most certainly not helping them recover. She was drawing the line at dragons and cursed rings, someone else could take on Durin’s Bane and that whole mess.

“We learned a lot about Moria,” Kili said, “but we’ve never seen it close up.” His gaze faltered slightly. “I’m not sure where it is. Do you know, Fili?”

Fili shook his head, disappointment clear on his face.

“You could always ask Thorin,” Bilba said and rolled her eyes at the looks they both gave her. “Oh, for the love of--” She looked ahead to Thorin and raised her voice just enough to be heard. “Thorin? Are we close to the gates of Moria?”

He stopped to look back at her and nodded. “We are.”

“Could you show me?” Bilba asked, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again at how Fili and Kili were trying to behave as if they were uninterested. “I’d like to see it.

“Of course.” Thorin studied the landscape. “There’s a narrow river, the Sirannon; that breaks off from the Gladden and flows through the mountain and out into Eregion. We aren’t quite there yet but once you see it I’ll show you where it exits from the mountain.” A light entered his eyes and his face became more animated. “I wish I could take you to the gates themselves. The Sirannon flows over the Wall of Moria and creates a waterfall nearly thirty feet in height. There’s a valley and, of course, the wall itself and a stair built into it.” He was growing more excited as he spoke, clearly his love of Moria had not been dampened by the losses suffered there during the battle. That battle had happened at the front gates and not the back so perhaps it was simply an area that hadn’t been tainted for him.

Bilba smiled at him, feeling a flash of affection at how youthful and happy he looked speaking about the lost kingdom. “Perhaps we’ll get to see it someday.”

He smiled back at her, his eyes lit up. “Perhaps.”

See it, not take it back. Seriously, her kingdom taking back days were done. If Thorin wanted to add to his list of restored kingdoms he could do it on his own…or with the army he now commanded.

That would probably work much better than Thorin and a small group of close friends who had so much loyalty toward him they were willing to march into what should, by all rights, have been outright suicide by dragon.

Now that she thought about it, given all that, she really shouldn’t have been all that surprised that they turned on her when Thorin did.

Thorin looked toward the mountain, still looking excited and Fili made a barely disguised sound of disgust next to her.

Bilba frowned at him and reached out to hook her hand around his bicep. She wanted to talk to him but didn’t want to put him on the defensive. If she did he’d shut down and never hear a word she said. “Do you think you’ll ever be willing to speak to him?” She kept her voice soft, and quiet, doing her best to keep any hint of censure or accusation out of it. On her other side, Kili moved suddenly, heading over to speak to Adalgrim and leaving the two of them effectively alone.

Fili kept his eyes ahead, his face set. For a few seconds Bilba worried he wouldn’t answer her at all. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d dodged answering or outright refused to discuss it.

For the last several weeks there had been an uneasy truce, as defined by the Durins, which basically meant they ignored one another. The fact they had spoken in Rivendell, enough to determine who got to go to her first, had given her hope the ice had been broken. Rather than a step forward, however, they had simply gone back to the same thing as before, not speaking at all.

During the days she, Fili and Kili would usually talk among themselves while Thorin walked ahead of them in silence. Adalgrim would either join them or, more often than not, would be off on his own. It was…awkward to say the least. Bilba felt sympathy for Thorin who spent the entire day effectively in silence. She wanted to walk with him or speak to him but was worried it might cause worse tension with the boys or, aside from that entirely, that it might give Thorin the wrong idea. Her feelings toward him had not changed but, knowing his, she didn’t want to risk leading him on. For his part, Thorin had done little to try and court her in spite of what he’d claimed he planned to do. Bilba wasn’t sure if it meant he’d changed his mind or if he simply realized it wasn’t the time or place.

It was better in the evenings, when the others returned. There was more conversation, a closer sense of fellowship. Bilba would often eat with Aragorn and Glorfindel, hearing about where they’d been during the day and what they had seen.

“I can’t get past it,” Fili said, breaking into her thoughts. “Not yet.”

“Can’t get past what?” Bilba asked. When he didn’t answer she pressed on, still trying to stay as non-confrontational as possible. “I get you’re angry over the way he treated us but it’s more than that, isn’t it? Or--” she hesitated. “It just seems like it’s more than that.”

“It’s more than that,” Fili agreed. “But I really don’t want to talk about it.”

He’d tensed up as he spoke, his jaw set and she could feel the muscles of his arm bunching up under her hand. She wrapped her other arm around his for an instant and squeezed in a semi-hug and then released him. “You know I’m here to listen when you are ready, right?” she asked.

He nodded and turned to look at her finally with a smile. “I do.”

They fell back into a companionable silence after that. Kili returned to walk by her while Adalgrim continued to sulk off by himself.

It was sometime later that Thorin drew to a stop, his back to them.

When he didn’t speak immediately Bilba headed up to stand next to him. “What’s wrong?”

Thorin nodded ahead of them and Bilba looked to see a small stream, nearly dry, the water thick and muddy from an oversaturation of mud and grime.

“That,” Thorin said, “should be the Sirannon.” He frowned, tilting his head to one side. “And you should be able to hear the Stair Falls. The sound is so loud it can be heard for miles.”

Bilba held still, listening, but heard nothing aside from the faint rustle of the breeze through the trees and the sound of birds. “What do you think happened?”

“I have no idea,” Thorin answered, “and no time to find out.” He studied the remnants of the river as if it had personally offended him.

“We couldn’t have seen it anyway,” Bilba said. She pointed, past the river and toward what looked like rubble strewn about the ground. “What’s that?” she asked, hoping to distract him.

“The remnants of an ancient road,” Thorin said, “from a time when elves and dwarves shared a friendship.”

Bilba raised her eyebrows. “Such a time existed?”

“Indeed,” Thorin said, some humor returning to his face as he allowed himself to be distracted. “Back before Moria fell, when it was known solely as Khazad-dum.” He focused on her, his eyes bright. “Did you know the name Moria is actually an insult? It’s been forgotten by many, leading to its common usage even amongst some dwarves but its origins are far from kind.”

“I didn’t know that,” Bilba said, her interest genuine. History had always fascinated her. Behind her she could sense Kili and Fili inching forward, trying to overhear. Thorin must have realized it as well because he started speaking a bit louder, enough for his voice to carry back to them. They began moving again with Thorin pointing out the remnants of the road and relating its history as well as that of the dwarves and elves who had once traveled it. Beyond that lay the Glanduin, a river that was running as merrily as it ever had, a far different sight than the Sirannon.

He pointed in the direction of a marshy area known as the Swanfleet. That name Bilba knew as having been one of the homes of the hobbit back before the founding of the Shire. Near that, Thorin explained, lay the ruins of the elven city of Ost-in-Edhil, founded by Galadriel and her husband, Celeborn, and eventually destroyed by Sauron.

“I never realized how extensive your knowledge of history was before,” Bilba said at one point as he pointed out yet another landmark.

“I did spend a great part of my youth as a Crown Prince,” he said, “and my education didn’t stop just because we lost Erebor. I always particularly enjoyed history.” He nodded back at Fili and Kili, dropping his voice. “Those two learned the same but I’m not sure they remember as much. Kili preferred his archery lessons to history and Fili preferred lessons on diplomacy.”

“I never even thought to ask them,” Bilba said. “Of course I had other things going on at the time.” She smiled as she said it, letting him know she wasn’t complaining. “I love history though so don’t be surprised if I start demanding to know more.”

Thorin nodded, looking pleased. “I look forward to it.”

“Someone’s coming,” Adalgrim said suddenly, pointing ahead of them.

Thorin turned and Bilba did as well. In the distance she could see a large form loping through the woods, the movements familiar.

“It’s Beorn,” she said. Her stomach twisted with worry as she watched him approach. “He’s early, and moving fast.”

No one said a word as the bear drew closer. As he arrived he began to transform into a human and Bilba immediately turned her back, aware he wasn’t clothed when he changed. Fili moved forward to retrieve the clothing he’d left behind and gave the word a few minutes later when it became safe for her to turn around.

“We need to move,” Beorn said, pulling his shirt closed and lacing it as he spoke. “There are orcs coming this way.”

“What?” Fili asked. “From where? They shouldn’t even be on this side of the mountain.”

“They came through the Gap of Rohan,” Beorn said, “and are staying close to the foot of the mountain.”

“That’s no coincidence,” Thorin said shortly. “They didn’t just happen to come the very route we’re taking.”

“No,” Beorn agreed.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Adalgrim broke in. “How could they have known about us? Who would have told them?” His eyes widened. “Could it have been the Nazgul?”

“No,” Bilba said, shaking her head. “The Nazgul have no need for orcs.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Thorin said. He turned to face back the way they had come. “We need to go back, take the pass to Gladden and make it through the mountain that way.”

Beorn nodded. “Let’s go. The orcs move fast.”

Thorin nodded and they turned to head back the way they had come.

A hand took hers and Bilba looked to see Kili doing his best to give her a reassuring look even though his own face was tight and his expression grim.

She nodded back, shakily, and they started moving away from the orcs at a fast clip.

She didn’t know how long they’d been traveling before she saw the distant shapes of Aragorn and Legolas. A shiver ran through her at the looks on their faces and she drew closer to Kili as if he could somehow prevent the bad news she knew was coming.

“What are you doing?” Aragorn asked as he drew near. “Turn back. There are orcs coming. They crossed the mountain through the Gladden Fields and are moving this way.”

“There are more from the other direction,” Thorin said, his voice dark.

Kili slid an arm around Bilba’s waist and she responded in kind, her free hand going to the pocket she’d put the ring in.

Could it somehow have done this? She had heard it had a will of its own and certainly believed it, but could it have possibly called orcs from two different directions to come after them?

“We’ll go into Eregion,” Aragorn said, “there are places to hide. We can avoid both groups.”

“Except there are nine Nazgul out there,” Thorin said, “who could surround us before we would even know it.”

“So what do we do?” Fili asked. “Just sit here and wait?”

“Moria,” Thorin said, barely hesitating, his eyes narrowing. “We should go into Moria.”

Dead silence met his words.

It was Bilba who finally found her voice. “Thorin,” she said slowly, “Moria is overrun by orcs. You _know_ that. We want to avoid them, not walk right into them.” Thorin had a brilliant mind for strategy and the ability to come up with ideas on the spot, under intense pressure, but that didn’t mean every single idea was a _good_ one.

“The orcs stay further in,” Thorin said, “not at the gates. They have no reason to, they can’t open the doors. _I_ can. They’re called the Doors of Durin for a reason. I can get us in.”

“And then what?” Fili said, his voice hard. “What good does it do us to get inside?”

“The orcs won’t know where we went,” Thorin stated, his voice firm. It was clear how much he believed in the plan he’d come up with. “The Nazgul won’t know either. When they can’t find us they’ll assume we escaped them somehow and they’ll move on. We leave and continue on our way.”

“How will be know when they’ve left?” Aragorn asked.

“I’ll stay outside,” Thorin said. “I can watch for them to leave and retrieve you when it’s clear. I can watch for Glorfindel as well and warn him of the orcs. Together, we can ensure it’s safe for you to come back out.”

Adalgrim shook his head. “No,” he said, “that’s insane. We need to go out into Eregion like Aragorn said.”

“Eregion is mostly open land,” Thorin stated, “we could possibly find somewhere to hide but there’s no guarantee we wouldn’t be seen doing it from a distance. If that were to happen we’d be trapped with no way out, at the mercy of our enemy.”

Legolas, who’d been quiet until that point, turned to Bilba. “You should decide. You’re the ringbearer, you’re the most important among us.”

Bilba felt her eyes go wide and panic settled inside her. Everyone turned their attention to her, waiting.

She swallowed, her eyes meeting theirs each in turn. If they went into Moria and the orcs inside noticed them they would die. If they went into Eregion and the orcs or Nazgul found them, they would die.

Thorin was still the oldest among them, with the exception of Legolas, but he was giving her the choice which suggested he didn’t know which the better option was either.

Thorin knew Moria, enough to fear it. Would he ever suggest going into it if he didn’t truly believe it to be the only, and best, way? Especially when part of his plan hinged on his remaining outside and at risk to the orcs and Nazgul hunting them?

“Maybe we should wait for Glorfindel,” she said. “Maybe he would have another option.”

“It’s early still,” Thorin said, “and he doesn’t return until well after nightfall. We can’t afford to stand here and wait while orcs close in on use from two directions.”

Bilba sighed. Aragorn and Adalgrim wanted to go to Eregion, Legolas had no opinion, Thorin wanted to go to Moria.

She looked at Fili and Kili. “What about you two? What do you think we should do?”

Fili grimaced. “I don’t think either way is best but, with Moria, at least we would cut off the enemy. Out here if they saw us we could do nothing. In Moria, if they saw us they couldn’t follow, the door would be sealed against them.”

That surprised her. She would have expected them to want Eregion just to spite Thorin but, even as she thought it, Bilba felt a flash of shame. Fili and Kili wouldn’t endanger her and pick a path they didn’t believe in just for the sake of a grudge.

Kili was nodding in agreement so that made three for Moria, two for Eregion and one undecided.

“Beorn?” she asked, but he was already shaking his head.

“Either option is bad.” He hesitated and then indicated for her to come over to him. Bilba obeyed, and stepped several feet away from the others where Beorn knelt before her.

“The true question,” he said softly, “is not what the safest route for you is, but what is the safest route for the ring? If you die out here, the ring will go to the Nazgul and from there back to Sauron. If, however, you die inside Moria where great chasms lead into the center of the earth…”

She would be surrounded by the others who, presumably, could give her enough time to throw herself and or the ring over the edge, taking the ring from Sauron, not forever perhaps, but for longer than if she died out here in the open.

“You’re right,” Bilba said, a sense of peace, as much as could be felt, settling over her. “You’re right.”

It wasn’t about her, or the others for that matter.

It was about her sons, about Middle Earth and everyone who, unknowingly, was counting on her and the Fellowship to save them from the dark.

She turned to face the group. “Moria,” she said shortly. “We’ll go to Moria.”

Thorin nodded, taking no joy in the decision. “So be it.”

Past him Bilba caught a glimpse of Legolas looking at her with compassion. With his hearing he’d no doubt heard her conversation with Beorn.

She lifted her chin slightly and stepped forward to walk beside Thorin.

The decision had been made.

She prayed it would prove to be the correct one.

 


	15. Chapter 15

“Khazad-dum,” Thorin breathed, horrified. “What have they done to you?”

Bilba stood next to him and surveyed the landscape spread out in front of them.

She couldn’t see it entirely clearly in the rapidly gathering dusk but the little she could was nothing at all like Thorin had described.

There was no waterfall. A pile of debris, wood and trash showed where it had been damned and a bare trickle down the wall revealed the path it had once traveled.

Thorin had talked of a beautiful mountain valley below the wall but it was also gone, replaced by a stagnant looking pool of water covering nearly the entire valley floor. The water was dark and brackish and Bilba couldn’t help an odd feeling of unease looking upon it.

Nothing around it was alive. No trees, no grass, nothing but bare rock.

Thorin looked like he’d just lost his best friend and Bilba felt her heart twist in sympathy.

“No,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Absolutely not.”

He blinked and focused on her. “No, what?”

Bilba gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief. “No, we aren’t retaking Moria. There are orcs in there, and a Balrog if I recall.”

Hopefully they wouldn’t be meeting said Balrog. The orcs were bad enough.

Of course, they would have Glorfindel, if he ever got back, but considering how his last meeting with a Balrog had gone he probably wouldn’t be all that excited about meeting another one.

Thorin’s lips quirked in the barest of smiles, his eyes still fixed on the remnants of the valley below. “Who knows,” he said quietly. “No one has seen or heard of it in years. Perhaps it has died.”

Bilba laughed in surprise. “You are eternally optimistic about evil things up and politely dying for you.”

He shrugged. “I have faith. One day we’ll storm a fortress of evil and find the occupant has politely died for us already.”

“Given how our luck usually runs I doubt it.” She frowned suddenly. “Just how many fortresses of evil are you planning to enter in your lifetime?”

Thorin gave her a calm look. “It depends on how many you’re planning on storming.”

An arm slid around Bilba’s waist before she could gather her wits enough to respond. “Run from orcs now, flirt later,” Fili’s voice said dryly in her ear as he pulled her forward, toward the stairs leading down into the valley.

Bilba felt her face heat. She caught sight of Thorin turning away, a half smirk on his face. Aragorn and Legolas had already started down while Adalgrim was, as usual, lagging behind. Beorn had stayed behind to try and find Glorfindel and let him know of the danger as well as where they’d gone. Kili was nearby, studiously pretending he was interested in the landscape and not at all involved in anything his brother might be doing or saying.

“I was not flirting,” Bilba hissed, keeping her voice low. “I was just trying to cheer him up! And hopefully stave off a new obsession. You know how he gets.”

“Hmmm,” Fili looked half amused and half unconvinced. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Bilba muttered, giving him a pointed look to punctuate her point. She had _not_ been flirting.

They reached the edge of the stairs leading down. As was usual with the dwarves, there were no railings to be seen and the stairs themselves were steep, narrow, and in poor condition.

“One of these days,” Bilba said. “I’m going to die falling down a flight of stairs or off a ledge.”

Ahead, Thorin turned and began walking backwards down the stairs, because he was a reckless idiot. “Are you complaining about railings again?”

“Of course I am,” Bilba replied. “When have you ever seen me by a staircase or ledge where I _haven’t_ complained about the lack of rails?”

“You’ll be happy to know then,” Thorin said, “that I left orders to have rails installed in Erebor.”

Bilba came to a stop so fast that Kili, who’d taken up walking behind her, ran into her. Luckily Fili was still next to her and grabbed her before she fell.

“You what?”

Thorin looked inordinately pleased with himself. “I had to listen to quite a bit on how I’d be destroying the look and lines of Erebor but being a King has its advantages. I did, however, end up allowing the craftsmen to design them as they wished.”

Bilba’s eyes narrowed. “Which means they’ll end up being artistic instead of functional or practical.”

He shrugged. “I do what I can. If I didn’t compromise I’d risk my statue looking ridiculous, purely by accident mind you, once it’s revealed.”

Bilba started walking again, a death grip on Fili’s forearm as she made her way down. “Statue? You’re getting a statue?”

“The entire Company is,” Thorin said, turning to face forward again. “Yours and Kili’s will be in front with the added titles of Dragonslayers.”

Kili started to let out a shout of excitement, only to quickly cut it off as he remembered the reason they were there.

Bilba stumbled on a step and grabbed Fili’s forearm with her other hand. He raised his arm in front of her so it was like a bar across her chest. A look at his face showed his eyes were narrowed and she gave him a guilty look. “I’m sorry, am I holding too tight?”

“What?” he asked in confusion. His face cleared, the expression gone at once. “No, sorry. I was just thinking of something else.”

She didn’t have a chance to push any further as they were near the bottom of the stairs where Legolas and Aragorn were waiting.

The darkness wasn’t helping, Bilba thought irritably. It had taken time to make their way through the pass and the height of the mountains meant they ended up in shade much sooner than they normally would have as the sun dipped below the peaks. The moon would also take more time than usual to rise and, though its crescent was beginning to slowly appear, it would still be a bit longer before it offered any real light. The Durins and Legolas had better eyesight and were unaffected and Aragorn had a torch but none of that helped her any. She wasn’t a fan of the dark to begin with and less so in the current circumstances.

“Where’s the door?” she asked Thorin.

He pointed and she sighed. “Of course it’s right by the disturbing looking pool of water.”

“We won’t be there long,” Thorin said. “If you like you can wait here while I open the door and then come over.”

Bilba hesitated. She couldn’t put a finger on it but there was just something about the water and the closer she got the worse she felt.

“I think I will stay here,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, “but I don’t want you going alone.”

“We’ll go with him,” Aragorn said, indicating himself and Legolas. “The rest of you can wait here.”

Bilba nodded and stepped back to Fili and Kili as the others started toward the door that would lead them into a mountain complete with a legion of orcs…and possibly a Balrog.

“If we come across a ring in there,” she muttered, “someone smack me before I do something stupid like pick it up.”

“I didn’t know places like this existed,” Adalgrim said, coming up near her. He couldn’t stand next to her because Fili and Kili wouldn’t let him but he got as close as he could. “I mean,” he continued, “I know bad things happen and I saw those creatures but I never really thought--”

“About just how lucky we are that the Shire has always been protected?” Bilba cut in. “And how very, very fragile that safety really is?”

“Yes,” Adalgrim agreed. “I took it for granted before. I don’t think I will anymore.”

Noise came from behind them, near the top of the stairs and Bilba turned, expecting to see Beorn, and hopefully Glorfindel.

The top of the stair was far overhead and, even with the ever increasing moonlight, it was dark and murky. She caught the vague impression of shadows moving down the stairs but couldn’t make out what they were. The sound continued and she frowned.

She knew that noise…what was –

Recognition hit and she froze, her eyes widening.

Hooves.

It was the faint sound of hooves carefully making their way down the stairs.

Panic choked her and she grabbed at Fili’s arm. “Fili! Fili!” She could barely speak as she dragged him around and pointed up. His eyesight was better than hers – maybe – maybe she was wrong and he’d look confused or laugh –

His eyes went wide and he involuntary took a step back. “We need to go. Now.”

Kili looked up as well and Bilba saw his face drain of color. “How many?” she whispered. “How many of the Nazgul are coming?”

He cast a look at her and then back up again. “All of them.”

Bilba spun on her foot, toward where Thorin was heading toward the door.

“Thorin!” She didn’t bother staying quiet, the Nazgul already knew they were there.

Thorin, Aragorn and Legolas turned and she pointed behind her, up the stairs.

She didn’t wait to see their reaction.

Instead she focused on running. Kili and Fili fell in alongside her while Adalgrim came up just behind.

In her fear of the Nazgul, and her haste to get away, she managed to completely forget about her fear of the small lake in front of the door.

She shouldn’t have.

The path narrowed, the wall rising up on one side while the water drew ever closer on the other. Dimly, Bilba’s mind noted an odd ripple on an otherwise clear surface, a strange plop as if an invisible rock had skipped across the water.

She risked a look back and saw shapes moving about the base of the stair. There was no way anything should have been able to make it down that fast…at least not anything living.

She turned back and caught sight of Thorin standing before a section of wall. Something on the rock shimmered and he had a hand raised, his palm flat against the rock.

A splash and blackness fell before her, blocking out the light.

Bilba stumbled, confusion rattling in her mind.

What –

Then the blackness moved and she realized it was a tentacle of some kind, long and impossibly huge…and coming right at her.

Fear barely had a chance to take root before something ice cold and slimy wrapped around her waist. She was wrenched right off her feet and then she was being held high in the air with nothing but water and a shapeless, dark mass beneath her.

“Thorin!” she screamed his name with every ounce of fear and panic in her, so loud it tore at her throat and left it aching.

That didn’t stop her from continuing to scream.

From below came a deep, echoing sound, unlike any she’d ever heard before. It vibrated through her and the small valley.

A shriek answered it, one she’d heard before in Bree and in the woods beyond and she screamed again. She clawed at the tentacle around her waist, digging her fingers into it. She could feel tiny, fine scales running along it though the overall texture was rubbery and slick.

She was swung through the air, waved around wildly and she shut her eyes and clenched her teeth as waves of nausea roiled through her.

Over the deep sound of the creature that held her she could hear more shrieking, shouting voices, and the sound of metal meeting metal.

The thing around her waist jolted and then loosened. Bilba screamed again, risking a look down to see nothing but darkness beneath her.

She fell, her entire body locking in horror in anticipation of hitting the water, or the thing in the water.

Arms caught her and she was pulled in tight to someone’s chest.

“Being around you certainly keeps things exciting doesn’t it?”

Bilba looked up into Glorfindel’s face, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “I do my best,” she managed to gasp out, her voice wavering as she fought back tears.

The tentacle that had grabbed her reached out again, arrows now dotting its length. Several more joined it, others flying past to the main shape in the center of the pond. Legolas and Kili stood farther back on the bank, sending arrow after arrow into the creature. It made that strange, deep sound again and sank below the water, escaping the attack.

Glorfindel carried her out and set her on the ground, his expression grim. As he straightened Bilba saw the side of his head was matted with dried blood, he held one arm in close to his side and his posture was tilted slightly.

“Glorfindel?” she asked, worried.

He shook his head. “Get to the door.”

A hand grabbed hers and Thorin was there, pulling her away, Fili next to him with sword in hand. “Come on. We need to get inside.”

Bilba allowed him to draw her away as Glorfindel strode forward to face the oncoming Nazgul, drawing his sword with one hand. Kili and Legolas backed up to either side of her, bows and arrows at the ready. Aragorn and Beorn moved past to back up Glorfindel. Bilba saw no sign of Adalgrim but there was a dark opening where once had been solid rock so she assumed he’d been sent inside. He couldn’t fight and having him outside just added one more person they had to protect.

Fili grabbed her other hand and, together, the two Durins pulled her toward the door, Kili and Legolas continuing to bring up the back.

They’d almost made it to the door when the water erupted behind them.

Bilba shot a look back and saw a head with a blunted snout and large, bulbous eyes emerge from the water. Tentacles, at least eight if not more shot out, snapping Thorin, Fili, Kili and Legolas away from her. They flew through the air, hitting the ground and rolling.

Bilba screamed, and then screamed again as a tentacle wrapped around her ankle and wrenched. Pain shot through her leg as she was dragged right off her feet. She hit the ground hard and then was being pulled along it, pain ripping through her as rocks and debris raced past She scrabbled at the ground, feeling her nails rip and then ice cold water sucked her breath right out of her. Her mind barely had time to register the fact she’d been dragged into the small pool and then she was being lifted up into the air.

The world twisted wildly and she gagged at the renewed nausea. She saw a flash of gold hair and new fear clawed up her spine as she realized Glorfindel was fighting on the edge of the pond, only a few feet away. He’d been driven back and if he’d been driven back then that meant --

A horse, or something like it, shrieked, the sound echoed by the unmistakable screech of a Nazgul. This close she could see them, all nine forcing their way forward, driving the Fellowship back. Beorn had changed into his bear form and was up on both hind legs, roaring in rage as he swung at the advancing Wraith.

Something poked at her, sliding inside her jacket and she jerked at the realization that it was a tentacle.

The ring.

It was going after the ring.

“No!” She slapped at the appendage, managing to shove it away enough to let her get the ring out.

Arrows slammed into the tentacle again but it merely transferred her to another one and lashed out with its remaining ones, forcing Kili and Legolas to retreat. It seemed to have a never ending supply of tentacles and was more than willing to use all of them.

As Bilba watched, two of them smashed into the Nazgul, killing the beasts they rode and knocking the Wraith onto the ground.

Well, Bilba thought almost hysterically, at least it wasn’t discriminating. It might want the ring, for whatever reason, but that didn’t mean it was an ally of the Nazgul.

The Ringwraith seemed to realize it as well. Four of them broke off from the attack against the Fellowship and refocused on the creature, wading into the water still on their horses to attack it.

It served to distract the creature enough that it stopped trying to get the ring. Tentacles shot out and wrapped around the horses the Nazgul rode, flinging them through the air to dash against the rock. The creature moved closer to shore to attack better and, as it did, the attack became more focused, more between the Nazgul and it and less between the creature and the Fellowship or the Nazgul and the Fellowship.

Bilba heard a shout and looked down to see Thorin wading into the water, his sword drawn. The creature was close enough to shore that he was able to reach it. He swung, chopping into the tentacle holding her. Kili and Fili joined him and then Beorn, one giant paw swiping out to open deep gashes in the skin.

The creature shrieked in pain as Beorn manage to cut the tentacle completely off. The part around her waist slackened and fell away and then she was falling, only to be caught by Thorin.

“Inside,” he ordered the others, “while they’re all busy killing one another.”

He ducked as another tentacle zipped past over his head, wrapping around a Nazgul and lifting it in the air. Bilba saw the Wraith fly through the air to slam into the wall of Moria. Instead of hitting like a person would, however, black smoke burst out and the cloak and armor it wore fluttered to the ground, empty.

Thorin set her feet on the ground and grabbed her hand, dragging her to the door. Bilba kept her free hand clutched around the ring, trying to ignore the way her fear and despair seemed to have doubled. It tried to force her down, to encourage her to stop in her tracks and just give up but she tightened her grip in Thorin’s and kept moving, one foot in front of the other.

At the door she saw Adalgrim, just inside, staring out in horror. Fili ran in and then her and Thorin. Kili and Legolas took up stance on either side of the door, sending more arrows at the creature. They didn’t bother with the Nazgul. They were rapidly running out of arrows and it would be a waste to use them on the Wraith.

The creature roared in rage and pain and lashed out at the Wraith. Most of their horses were dead or injured, though the way they kept moving on limbs that were clearly shattered told her with certainty the animals were no more natural than the things that rode them. Bilba only counted six Nazgul, four clutched in tentacles and two attacking, and guessed she’d missed the other two being destroyed, temporarily or permanently, in the same manner as their fellow.

Glorfindel, Aragorn and Beorn arrived, all breathing hard.

A horrifically loud shriek resounded through the air and Bilba saw the creature’s tentacles drop limp suddenly. The four Nazgul that were now left were dropped, clearly exhausted, their cloaks and armor oddly flat as if the person inside were only partly there.

No…she realized slowly as her eyes took in the scene. No there weren’t four left.

 

There were five.

 

The creature was sinking below the water and, there, standing easily on its head holding a sword with a blade stained black with ichor, was a fifth Nazgul.

Unlike the others it appeared perfectly fine, its cloak still filled out and its posture straight and strong. It wore a strange…crown almost that the others didn’t, spikes sticking from it and ringing its head.

Memory surfaced.

It was the one from Weathertop. The one that had stabbed her. As if in recognition the nearly healed wound in her shoulder erupted to life, the pain as intense as if she’d just received it. She whimpered in pain, sweat breaking out on her forehead.

The Nazgul stepped off the creature’s head as it vanished and walked across one of the tentacles as it slowly slipped into the water.

“Go,” Glorfindel ordered. “Go now!”

Thorin shoved her inside and the others crowded after. Glorfindel grabbed one of the doors while Beorn grabbed the other.

The Nazgul picked up speed, striding toward them. Its remaining fellows got up slowly behind it and fell in line.

Glorfindel cursed and let go of the door. “Stand back!”

He lifted a hand and shouted something in a language that Bilba didn’t understand. It sounded vaguely elvish but old, and heavy, the words nearly crackling as he spoke them.

White light burst forth from him, so bright she closed her eyes. Thorin was still standing next to her and she wrapped her hand around his bicep and buried her face against his shoulder.

A loud sound echoed around them, things crashing and cracking, a rumble passing through under her feet. Thorin ducked, pulling her with him into a crouch, and wrapped both arms around her head and shoulders, shielding her. A cold wind rushed over her and she felt small things hitting her, like bits of rock and debris. The thick smell of dust rose about her and she coughed, curling in tighter against Thorin. She heard the others coughing as well, the sound slowly fading away until the only thing that was left was the sound of heavy breathing.

Thorin’s arms loosened and Bilba lifted her head.

It was completely black. Thorin had mentioned the Blessing of Mahal, which provided a supernatural light to dwarves when they entered their mountain homes, might not work in Moria with the corruption of the orcs present.

It appeared he was right.

Keeping a hand on his sleeve, Bilba stood and stepped forward only to stop as her foot caught against rock. She reached a hand out and felt more stone, mounds and mounds of it just in front of her.

So much for the doors of Durin.

It was Kili who finally broke the silence.

“Well,” he said tiredly from somewhere to her left, his voice hoarse from inhaling dust, “ _that_ didn’t go as planned.”

Bilba sighed. “No. No it did not.”

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year Everyone!! :D :D

Kili sat and pretended to check over one of his arrows.

They had been in Moria nearly two days and, so far, it had been silent.

Too silent in his opinion. Uncle had said the orcs stayed lower in the mountain and, as long as the Fellowship stayed on the higher levels and kept quiet, they should be able to make it through to the other side unseen.

The fact they appeared to have managed it unnerved him. In his experience, things were rarely that easy.

When word had come that orcs were after them, when Glorfindel had failed to come and the Nazgul had arrived instead…he’d felt an odd sort of relief. He’d been carrying a sense of dread, of anticipation. After their arrival he’d felt…calm.

Anticipation, in his opinion, was always worse than the actual thing he was anticipating.

In the aftermath of the gates coming down they had tried to account for everyone, and any possible injuries. Glorfindel, who had the helpful ability to glow when he wished, had lit the room up long enough to ensure everyone was, in fact, present and remarkably unharmed.

That was all that was needed for the anxiety to start up again, an hourglass being reset.

With nothing more to do, they had set out in a tight column, Glorfindel leading with his light just bright enough to follow but too dim to attract attention, hopefully. The rest of them had come along behind, those with better eyesight, or the ability to see in the dark entirely, helping to guide those who could not.

Bilba had barely spoken since the gates had come down. At one point he’d seen her next to his uncle, speaking to him in a low, intense voice while he had his head tilted down to listen to her. Kili had no idea what she’d said but she’d hardly said anything since, just doggedly put one foot in front of the other, trying to get out of Moria before they were spotted.

They had stopped in a small room that seemed to serve no other purpose than to offer doorways into other parts of Moria. They had come through one of them which left three others to pick from, and no one there seemed to know which was the correct to take.

Granted, it wasn’t as if any of them had spent a lot of time in Moria but Uncle had studied it extensively, as had he and Fili.

Which was why Uncle and Fili were currently off in a corner speaking to Glorfindel and Aragorn about where to go. Legolas was asleep, leaning against Beorn who’d taken to traveling in bear form as much as possible, while Adalgrim was standing at one of the entrances and glaring into the darkness.

Kili could feel Bilba next to him, close enough that her arm was brushing against him and their thighs were touching. She had barely moved since they’d stopped, instead sitting next to him as if she were carved from stone.

Kili lifted the arrow, sighting down the shaft to ensure the wood wasn’t bent or split, checking the arrowhead to see that it was secured and properly sharpened.

“You could just go join them, you know,” Bilba said from beside him suddenly. “I doubt anything is going to happen to me with you all mere feet away.”

Kili flinched with guilt at having been caught out staring at his uncle and brother, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. He and Fili had been with Bilba almost every second for well over a year, and even further going back to the quest. It was little wonder she could read him now, almost as well as his brother.

“If they wanted me they’d have asked me,” he said, his voice quiet to keep it from traveling in the room.

Bilba frowned but didn’t respond. She had her arms wrapped around herself and was shivering in spite of Aragorn having given her his coat, which covered her more like a blanket than a jacket.

Something had changed since they’d entered Moria and she wasn’t saying what it was.

She wasn’t saying, but he could guess.

That damn ring. Whether it had started acting up because of the Nazgul, that thing in the water or something else entirely he didn’t know but it was affecting her.

She was afraid. Terribly afraid, more so than she’d ever been on the quest. The ring tormented her with nightmares at night and amplified her fears relentlessly during the day. At times she looked at him and the others with a faint suspicion in her eyes and he felt sick at the thought that the ring might be trying to poison her mind against the rest of them.

The others had seen it as well, leading to a closer watch being kept on her. They all remembered Weathertop and the ring attempting to draw her physically away, into the arms of the Nazgul. The last thing they needed was for something similar to happen when they were literally surrounded by orcs and Mahal knew what else.

He shot another look at the conference taking place and frowned, shoving the arrow back in his quiver with just a bit more force than necessary and pulling another out to check it.

It wasn’t that he minded sitting with Bilba or that he didn’t understand the need.

It was that it had never occurred to them to ask for his input. He knew as much as his brother, more perhaps as he’d always had a fascination for maps and architecture while Fili had always held more interest for the actual history of a place, its people and kings and the events that had defined them.

But it was Fili they had asked for help, not him, as usual.

Fili, after all, was the Heir while he, as always, was nothing but the spare.

His face twisted as that word drifted through his mind. Granted, he’d never heard it from anyone who mattered, and they’d have dealt with it harshly had they heard someone say it…but that didn’t mean it wasn’t said.

Or that it wasn’t true.

He was the spare. Held back in the event that something happened to his uncle and brother and Erebor, Mahal forbid, needed him to step in.

Unbidden, a memory floated through his mind, standing before his uncle and the council in Ered Luin, trying to convince them all to let him go on the quest to retake Erebor.

_“He should stay, my Lord. If something should happen to you and Lord Fili, Kili will be the only direct male heir left.”_

_“It’s my right to go,”_ Kili had argued back, trying desperately to sound like he imagined his uncle or brother would in his place. _“You cannot deny me.”_

 _“He belongs here,”_ one of them, he forgot who, said.

 _“I belong with my brother,”_ Kili had shot back, _“and my uncle. If something does go wrong, if they don’t come back…how can you ever expect me to lead when all anyone will remember is I stayed behind?”_

In the end, he hadn’t been the one to convince them.

Fili had.

His brother had stepped in and, as if he were simply reciting the weather, had given a passionate, and eloquent, speech about why all three heirs of Durin should go, even if it could result in the end of their line and lead to the throne passing to Dain Ironfoot, a dwarf many of them had never met.

So he had gone, hoping to finally make a name for himself, and, from what his uncle had said, it would appear he had.

Kili Dragonslayer.

Well, Bilba and Kili Dragonslayer, but he certainly didn’t mind sharing the title. He’d had hope that, upon his eventual return, his people would stop seeing him as simply the spare.

Based on how Fili and his uncle were treating him, however, that hope was beginning to fade.

They may have never treated him like a spare but that didn’t mean they treated him like he was capable. His mother had extracted promises from both of them that they would keep him safe and, on the quest itself, both had been overprotective.

They had always been that way, his entire life, and he knew it came from a good place, he did. Every time Fili stepped up to defend him against a bully, every time his uncle gave him the easier task, or sent him to find work in a safer location…he knew it came from love.

He did.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting.

He knew he wasn’t the leader they were. He didn’t have the charisma of his brother or the strategic mind of his uncle. He didn’t have the grasp of vocabulary or the passion that had convinced a group to travel to retake Erebor from a dragon or the easy confidence and strength that naturally drew people to follow.

He had none of that, which was probably why no one ever looked to him, why he couldn’t pull himself out of his uncle and brother’s shadows no matter how hard he tried.

He supposed, now that he thought about it, he had never _really_ expected to succeed at that. They were both too large, too far above him, their shadows much too deep and cast far too wide to ever escape.

Still, even if he couldn’t accomplish that, he’d hoped to at least convince them to see him as an adult.

If he could do that then, maybe, just maybe, it would convince his people, in turn, to see him as more than just the spare.

His lips twisted with a bitter self-mockery.

Kili Dragonslayer.

What a joke.

It hadn’t been him. It had been Bilba. He’d followed her lead, as he always followed another’s lead and, in the end, they’d still had to be saved by his uncle and brother.

And so they still saw him as a child. They knew the truth. He wasn’t a dragonslayer. He’d gotten involved in a poorly thought out plan and gotten lucky, because they’d been there.

Because they had always been there and he couldn’t imagine them not being there, wasn’t sure if he could survive it if they weren’t but it didn’t make the truth any less painful.

He was nothing more than a child to them. Loved, cared for, protected…but a child nonetheless.

And if he couldn’t even change that perception there was no way he’d ever change anyone else’s.

Next to his brother and uncle he became simply…unnecessary.

A spare.

A child.

Irrelevant.

And nothing was ever going to change that.

 

***

 

Kili was brooding.

Bilba could feel it coming off him in waves. He didn’t do it often, not as much as Thorin, but when he _did_ he did it with passion.

He was currently pretending to check over his arrows while sending occasional, intense looks toward the group conferring in the corner. He looked like his uncle when he got like that, the easy laidback personality temporarily replaced by the weight of the world attitude Thorin always carted around.

Her own eyes went to the group and she resisted the urge to yell at them to hurry it up already.

She wanted _out_ of Moria.

She hated the place. It hadn’t occurred to her just how much it would remind her of the tunnels where she’d found the ring. Dark, silent, the threat of things wanting to eat them right around the corner. The ring, bastard that it was, had apparently caught onto her fear and had been gleefully exploiting it. She barely slept, her dreams full of death and blood, while her waking hours were one long litany of fear and paranoia. She saw them all dead and dying, suffering, the ring going back to Sauron and darkness spreading across the land.

She’d finally broken down and confessed what was happening to Thorin. He’d been with her before in those tunnels and he understood what it was like to have a ring working its will on his mind. He was the only one who she knew would truly, and completely, understand what was happening…and how much they both had to lose if they failed.

It helped, knowing someone else understood and had the ability to step in if her fear got the best of her. Not a lot, but it helped.

Adalgrim sat down beside her. He had his pocket watch out, the lid closed, and his hand clasped around it tight enough that his knuckles were white. She’d seen him with it a few times since they’d entered the mines but never with it open.

“Is your family in there?” she asked, nodding toward the case.

He nodded. “It doesn’t feel right, to open it in here. It’d be like I was exposing them to all…this, somehow.”

She could understand that. Her fingers itched to pull out the drawing she’d done of her boys but she’d refrained. She didn’t want to do it here, not now. “You just had a new baby, didn’t you? Was it a boy or girl?”

“A boy,” he said with a faint smile. “We named him Drogo.”

“Drogo and Lily,” Bilba said, remembering the happy little girl she’d met once several years earlier. “Good names. I’m sorry you had to leave them.”

Adalgrim shrugged and gave her a dry smile. “Not as sorry as I’m going to be, especially when Ivy finds out I ran off with you.”

Bilba snorted. “You didn’t run off with me. You were running after your parents.”

“Only as far as Rivendell,” Adalgrim said, studying the closed case.

Bilba raised an eyebrow. “And then you went to prevent one of your parents from deciding to come.”

“So I convinced myself,” Adalgrim muttered. He shifted enough to put the watch back in his pocket and then gave her a sardonic grin. “I was saving my parents, trying to save my wife and children, helping save the world. All true. Every word of it. It just wasn’t the _entire_ truth.”

Bilba sighed. “Adalgrim. Don’t. We’ve been over this.”

That wasn’t true either, and they both knew it. She and Adalgrim were very close to the same age and her mother and his had been best friends since childhood. They also lived close to one another so it was…fated, in a way she supposed that she and Adalgrim would have grown up knowing one another.

It had not been fated that they would be friends, much less best friends, but that was how it had worked out. Priscilla and Seth had other children, younger and older, but it had always been Adalgrim that she’d turned to, and he to her. She’d drag him all over the Shire, constantly getting into trouble that, at the time, she’d blamed equally on the both of them but, in hindsight, realized was far more her doing with him willingly following behind.

It had changed after her parents and Bungo had died. Adalgrim had become far less willing to follow her, and she’d been less willing to lead. She’d settled down, imprisoning herself inside Bag End with no one but Adalgrim and his family to visit her. They’d grown closer, and farther apart at the same time. She’d changed, taking a path he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, follow her on. At the same time, however, she’d become far more respectable, and a lot more timid, and that had put her more in line with his own views on being a proper hobbit.

She couldn’t put her finger on exactly when his feelings started to change for her, from friendship to something more. Perhaps it wasn’t even that his feelings changed, perhaps it was simply that she’d become aware of them.

She hadn’t felt the same way and it had driven a wedge between them, one that deepened when she’d decided she was in love with Fram. The next thing she knew he was moving to Buckland and leaving a note in her mailbox alleging awful, or what she’d thought were awful, lies about Fram. Later there had come a second letter, unsigned but in his familiar writing, confessing the feelings she’d already known about. She had ignored it, and hadn’t commented on it when he’d visited a few weeks later.

The next time she’d heard from him it had been the announcement of his marriage to Ivy.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Adalgrim said. “I love my wife, and my children, but outside of my family, you were the first to hold my heart. As soon as I learned to walk I started running after you, and I don’t think I’ve ever really stopped.” He nodded in Thorin’s direction. “Though, I might have tried a little harder to stop if I’d realized he was your type.”

Bilba chuckled. “Don’t forget, I was infatuated with Fram before I ever met him, and for a while after as well. Clearly I didn’t know myself all that well.”

“True,” Adalgrim said. “I confess it makes me wonder. If you had never met Fram, if--”

“I have no idea,” Bilba said, cutting him off, “and wondering about what if will just drive you crazy, so stop, before you say something you can’t take back.”

Adalgrim’s mouth snapped closed and he nodded, his face going red with embarrassment or guilt, or perhaps a mixture of both.

Kili had gone still on Bilba’s other side and was studiously looking away from them, probably wishing desperately he was anywhere else.

Bilba gave Adalgrim a tired smile, choosing to focus on the overall conversation and recognizing the attempt to reconcile with her for what it was. She leaned over slightly and bumped her shoulder against his. “You should have learned by now anyway. I only ever got us in trouble.”

“Child sized trouble,” Adalgrim agreed. “I think I spent most of my life grounded.”

Bilba laughed, remembering better days, before their feelings had diverged, before Fram and her parents and everything else that had gotten in their way. Back when they were just kids, and the best, and only, friend the other had and that was all they needed.

“Now we’re adults,” Adalgrim continued, “so I suppose it makes sense our trouble would become adult sized as well.”

Bilba’s humor faded, her gaze turning serious as reality reasserted itself. “You should go home, Adalgrim, back to your family and your children. You should leave, while you still can.”

“Can I?” Adalgrim mused. “You don’t think he’ll be waiting for us?”

Bilba frowned. “Who?”

“That Nazgul.” He dropped his voice low, barely a whisper, but Bilba saw Glorfindel’s head shift barely in their direction and she felt Kili’s leg tense where it pressed against hers. “There’s only one way out, isn’t there? How do we know--”

“That the only thing we succeeded in doing by coming in here is prolonging our lives by a couple days?” Bilba cut in. “We don’t know.”

Adalgrim sighed. “And you still won’t use the ring? Not even to save all our lives?”

Bilba shifted, angling her body so she was facing him, her knee now pressed against his leg instead of Kili’s. Keeping her voice as low as possible, she crossed her arms over her waist and leaned forward, close to him. “Let me tell you a story about rings, alright? Specifically, rings created by, and for, Sauron.”

With that she launched into the story of what had happened with Thorin. The way his grandfather’s ring, a lesser ring, enslaved to the one ring, had corrupted him, affecting his mind to the point that he had banished her and his own nephews. Yes, he had later allowed his own stubbornness and pride to keep him locked on a wrong path but the _start_ of that path had not been his doing and she made that clear, how easy it was for the ring to nudge you, to convince you that what you were doing was right, and your choice.

She continued, telling him how the ring had attacked her without her even understanding what it was, convincing her that Thorin would kill her if he found out about the twins, that he’d take them away and poison them against her, show up at Bag End with an army in tow.

And, finally, she told him what she had told Thorin earlier. About how the ring was using her own memories and Moria against her, how it had been relentless in throwing up memories she’d rather forget, over and over again until she wanted to scream at them to stop.

As she spoke she saw Adalgrim’s face grow paler and paler. When she finally finished he looked down at his lap and she saw the muscle in his jaw working.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eventually. “I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Bilba said. She sighed. “It’s not like a sword, Adalgrim, or even a prized steed or something we stole from Sauron. The rings, and particularly _this_ ring, it’s almost like a piece of Sauron himself. It will never work against him. If you try, the only one who will end up betrayed is you.”

“I just want to make it home,” he said, his hands clasped in his lap. “I want my family to be safe.” He looked up, his eyes focusing on her. “ _All_ my family. I want you all safe. I wish this hadn’t happened to you, Bilba. Any of it.”

“It hasn’t all been bad,” Bilba said. She reached out and put a hand over his. “I got my sons and two more brothers.”

“True enough,” Adalgrim agreed. He gave a small smile. “And, then of course, you landed yourself a dwarf king who’s currently trying to glare me to death.”

Bilba followed her gaze and saw that, indeed, Thorin had his eyes on them. She rolled her eyes at him and focused on Adalgrim again. “He isn’t _my_ dwarf king. He may be the father of my children but we aren’t involved, not anymore.”

“Not by his choice,” Adalgrim said, knowingly. “I wore that expression long enough to know what it looks like.”

“I can’t just turn my heart on and off, Adalgrim,” Bilba said, annoyed. “I’ve moved on. What we once had…it’s over now and that’s all there is to it.”

He studied her, his eyes oddly intense. “If you say so.”

Bilba frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He chuckled. “Nothing.” He smiled at her, one of the first genuine smiles she’d seen from him in a long time. “You are impressive, you know that? I don’t know many who would volunteer to go off to Mordor to try and take on Sauron.”

“I had a lot of motivation,” Bilba responded.

“So do I,” Adalgrim said, “but I don’t know that I would have had the courage.”

Bilba leaned forward until she could make eye contact with him. “And yet here you are.”

He looked startled, his eyes widening. “I suppose you’re right.”

Bilba snorted. “I’m always right, Adalgrim. You should know that by now.”

She squeezed his hand again and then released him, before getting to her feet and walking to the group still discussing their route in the corner.

Fili moved to let her in and she put herself in front of Glorfindel, drawing his attention. “When we leave here,” she asked flatly, “will the Witch King be waiting for us?”

“I don’t believe so,” Glorfindel replied.

Bilba frowned in suspicion. “You don’t believe or you hope not?”

He looked mildly amused. “Have you ever wondered why the Witch King of Angmar was so powerful in life, and remains so even now? He would draw off the life force of those around him and use it to augment his own power. He does so now from the eight and most of them were defeated, or greatly weakened, by that creature in the water meaning they would have to return to Sauron. I would imagine the Witch King was weakened in turn and also went with the others to Sauron to regain his strength.”

“He certainly didn’t look weakened,” Bilba muttered. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, creature in the water? You didn’t know what that thing was?”

“I don’t know everything,” Glorfindel said dryly. “I’m old, not omniscient.”

“That,” Bilba said, “is not in the least bit reassuring.”

She sighed, locking her eyes on Thorin. “Have you figured out which way to go yet?” There was the slightest hint of a plea in her tone as she addressed him. The ring was getting to her, she could feel it creeping up her spine like an itch she couldn’t scratch. If they didn’t get out soon she was going to lose it entirely, which would attract the attention of the orcs, which she had no doubt was exactly what the ring wanted.

“I believe so,” Thorin said.

Bilba shook her head. “Why is everyone suddenly believing so? Don’t believe so. I need you to know it. We need to get out of here.”

Glorfindel, Fili and Aragorn gave her a mix of confused and suspicious looks but she ignored them.

“I know it,” Thorin said calmly. “We’ll be out soon.”

“Alright,” Bilba whispered. “I’m holding you to that.”

She walked back to Kili and held her hands out. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

He gave her a startled look but slid his arrows back into the quiver and then grabbed her hands and stood up. As soon as he did Bilba stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his chest. It didn’t get her out of Moria any sooner but at least it let her pretend, for a moment, she was anywhere else.

They were almost out, she reassured herself, almost.

They’d gotten this far unseen, they were past the worst of it. Their luck just had to hold a little longer.

Just a little longer.

 

***

 

In the end, they almost made it.

When their luck ran out, it wasn’t from anything spectacular or fantastic.

It wasn’t even anything borne from ignorance or inexperience.

It was just an accident.

A small, simple accident that, at any other time, in any other place, would have warranted no lasting memory let alone any serious consequence.

But this was Moria, this was the ring doing its best to get back to its master, and neither of them suffered mistakes.

It happened as they made their way down a narrow corridor, one of many that, to Bilba, all seemed identical. Thorin, whose sense of direction underground had always been wildly superior to what it was on the surface, had seemed to gain confidence with every step, however, so she held her peace.

She kept near the back, her hand clasped in Kili’s with a grip so tight her hand was cramping. She had no doubt he’d overheard what she’d said to Adalgrim which meant he now understood the struggle she was going through as Thorin did. He’d given no reaction, and had made no effort to tell anyone else, for which she was eternally grateful. Instead, he’d simply taken her hand when they’d moved out and had yet to let go.

Legolas and Beorn were behind them, covering their backs. Beorn was still in bear form, for his own defense and theirs, as he’d been for the entire trip.

One of them probably should have taken into consideration the ruined nature of Moria, and how unpractical it was for a massive bear to try and squeeze through the current, very small, very narrow corridor they were traveling through.

A section of the tunnel had collapsed at some point and rubble blocked a portion of it. Squeezing past it was a challenge, and would have been for Beorn no matter the form he was in.

He did his best but it did involve some effort, some force to drag his body through. His hindquarters got stuck right at the last and he tugged violently, wrenching his way through with a sharp bark of pain as the stone cut into his skin and left jagged tears in the fur.

As he pulled past the rubble behind him shifted, just a little.

It was enough.

The stone that shifted was at the bottom, and it was enough to shift the entire mound in its wake.

Thorin swore. “Run,” he ordered, “now!”

A low rumble sounded and the floor vibrated under Bilba’s feet. Her heart jumped into her throat and she spun away from the rubble and bolted. It wasn’t easy to run in such tight quarters but they managed it, their feet pounding on stone even as it shook and crumbled beneath their feet.

Wind and dust blew past them, exactly like when the gates had come down and Bilba realized the entire tunnel was coming down behind them.

She tried to run faster but the others were ahead of her and she could only move as fast as they could.

Luckily, for them all, they were fast enough.

It was Thorin who called a halt, holding a hand up and then leaning over to try and catch his breath.

“Damn their greed!” he spat. “They mined under their own roads!” He stood back up, still heaving in great breaths, and stared back down the way they’d come. They’d run so far they couldn’t see the destruction that was undoubtedly behind them but they could still hear the crack and rumble of debris continuing to break off erratically. “We’re lucky it held as long as it did,” Thorin growled, clearly angry. “We were walking on a damaged road with nothing underneath it.” He swore again, in Khuzdul this time, because Common was apparently not adequate for the task. Kili was clearly taking notes while Fili, standing a few feet away, appeared to be doing his best to not show how impressed he was by his uncle’s grasp of their language.

Bilba ignored him. She was staring back into the darkness behind them, listening to the distant crash and rumble of destruction as the rubble from the collapsed tunnel took out whatever was in its way as it fell. The noise as it’d initially given way had been tremendous and she could only imagine how loud it must be as it continued on its way.

She reached out and touched Thorin’s sleeve, and he shut up at once.

“How far do you think the dwarves of Moria went?” she asked, her eyes still fixed behind them. “How deep?”

“Does it matter?” Aragorn asked. “The mines are in disrepair. This can’t be the first time something like this has happened.”

“Maybe,” Glorifindel agreed, “but that doesn’t mean the orcs won’t come to investigate anyway.”

As if summoned a new, faint sound reached them.

“What was that?” Adalgrim asked.

It came again, louder, and already much, much closer.

“Drums,” Bilba whispered. “It’s drums.”

“How close?” Glorfindel asked Thorin. “How close are we to the gates?”

“We can make it,” he said, drawing his sword. “If we run.”

“Running is never a bad option,” Bilba said. “I suggest we stop talking about it and do it, right now.”

“As you wish, my Lady,” Thorin said, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly.

There was little to say after that.

So they ran.

The corridor soon opened into a massive area that made Bilba think of Erebor’s Treasury, if it were empty and had four times the pillars. She had no time to really look or appreciate it, however, as they’d barely entered when Thorin stopped in front of her, so hard and fast she caught up against his back. Instinctively she grabbed him to keep her balance and felt him put an arm back, keeping her behind him.

Moving her grip to his arm, she leaned around him to see why they’d stopped, and sucked in a startled breath.

There were orcs coming toward them from the other end of the hall. Not a huge group, perhaps a guard watching the upper level or a group on their way out that they’d just had the misfortune to run into. Regardless, they were there and while it might not have been all of Moria, it was enough.

Particularly taking into account the massive, angry looking Cave Troll lumbering along at the back. Even as she watched the orcs spotted them and shrieked, their steps quickening. The Troll behind them sped up as well, pulled by a chain held by one of the orcs. The Troll held a massive mace in one hand and Bilba felt her stomach turn at the thought of it being used against them.

Legolas and Kili were already readying their bows but Thorin shook his head. “Save your arrows for the orcs, they won’t pierce that creature’s hide.” He half turned, keeping Bilba behind him and away from the orcs as he did. “Beorn.”

Beorn roared and charged heading straight for the orcs. As he did arrows sailed on either side of him, striking several orcs and scattering the rest as they rushed to take cover behind pillars. The troll swung the mace but Beorn ducked it. He flew through the air and crashed into the troll, clawing at it and biting at its neck.

Thorin shot a look at his nephews. “You two stay back with Adalgrim and Bilba.”

Both nodded. Kili nocked another arrow and fired it into the throat of an orc, sending it to the ground with gurgle.

Fili reached over his shoulder and behind his waist, drawing the swords he carried in a dual sheath strapped to his back. As he did, Bilba reached forward and grabbed one of the knives he carried on his hip. He had axes strapped to his legs as well but she had no idea how to effectively use them.

“You can’t fight with that,” he said, though he made no effort to stop her. “The blade isn’t long enough for anything but close range and you don’t know how to throw it.”

Bilba forced a smile and took the second one off him, handing it back to Adalgrim. He, in turn, looked sick but obediently took the weapon, wrapping both hands around the hilt in a white knuckled grip. “Just in case you need help,” she said to Fili. “I did it for Dwalin and Dain before, back in Erebor.”

For not the first time, she mentally kicked herself for not keeping better track of the sword she’d carried with her on the quest, or for not getting a new one on the way home. She’d had her practice sword and trained a little on the way from Rivendell to the Shire but had rejected Fili’s offers to get her a new sword of her own, and it had never occurred to her to dig up the one she had in Bag End.

She hadn’t _planned_ to ever have to fight again. She’d been going home with her sons where she was going to be a mother and live a safe life, one that didn’t involve Nazgul and orcs and cave trolls.

She should have known better.

If she survived this, she would.

One of the orcs shrieked and turned to run, only to go down with an elvish arrow in its skull.

Thorin swore. “We can’t let them call for reinforcements!”

He ran forward with the others behind him and Fili turned and grabbed Bilba’s arm. “Come on,” he said. “We need to get behind one of the pillars. I don’t want to risk them having arrows of their own.”

Bilba nodded and let him herd her and Adalgrim behind a nearby pillar. Her last sight was of Beorn still locked in a titanic struggle with the troll while Thorin and the others ran to join the fray. Kili ducked behind a nearby pillar, spinning out to send arrows flying and then dropping back into a crouch behind the column again. Fili stayed with her and Adalgrim, his back to the edge of the stone and leaning over to peek around the corner and watch the fighting.

A horn sounded and Bilba felt cold fear race through her.

Beside her, Fili went pale and Kili froze in the act of lifting his bow to let another arrow loose.

“Too late,” Bilba whispered and Fili gave her a grim look. She nodded out, toward the fighting. “Go.”

She saw him swallow, clearly struggling, but finally he cursed and ran out from behind the column, quickly vanishing from sight. Kili soon followed, leaving her and Adalgrim alone.

“What is it?” Adalgrim asked. “What’s going on?”

“Reinforcements,” Bilba said shortly.

His eyes went wide and his hands, where they gripped the knife in a manner more likely to get himself killed than an orc, started shaking. “What do we do?”

“For now, nothing,” Bilba said. She took a deep breath, listening to the sound of battle from around the pillar. Then, she leaned over and poked her head out for just an instant, trying to assess what was going on.

Almost immediately she screamed and jerked back, grabbing Adalgrim’s arm and dragging him away from the pillar. “Move! Adalgrim, move!”

He came with her, too stunned to resist.

Behind them the pillar exploded, bits of rock and debris blowing outward. Bilba ducked, dragging Adalgrim with her.

She looked her shoulder and watched as the cave troll she’d spotted coming at them tried to free its mace from where it was now embedded halfway into the damaged pillar. It looked to be the one Beorn had been fighting. It was bleeding profusely from massive, gaping wounds along its chest and upper body and appeared mad with pain, roaring in rage and shoving against the pillar before turning to face her.

“What?” Adalgrim said, scrambling backward. “How--”

“Probably the damn ring,” Bilba snapped. “Up, now!”

The troll lunged forward and she was forced to throw herself to the side, away from Adalgrim. He managed to roll in the opposite direction, away from her, and got to his feet behind the troll.

It showed zero interest in him, keeping its attention focused in on Bilba.

She sighed. Definitely the ring then.

The troll came at her and she screamed and jerked away, scrambling behind a pillar. That didn’t last and she was forced to dodge behind another and another after that, struggling to stay one step ahead of the massive creature. It was clearly wounded but showed no signs of dying anytime soon and, in desperation, she looked toward the rest of the Fellowship in the hopes that help would soon be coming.

She could see immediately it wouldn’t be.

The halls were literally crawling with orcs, and at least two more cave trolls. Beorn was locked in a struggle with both of them, trapped between them and attempting to fend off both at once. The rest were trying to fend off the orcs while Kili and Legolas picked still more off from further back.

It was like trying to stop the oncoming tide. Her eyes went to Thorin, his blade flashing as he cleaved two orcs in two at once, barely even pausing to make sure they were dead before turning to the rest.

This was the battle of Erebor, of Moria all over again. Entire armies had been involved in those two battles and had left scores of dead in their wake.

There was no way their small group was going to be able to stand.

The troll burst around the pillar she was crouched behind and she screamed again, just managing to duck in time as its arm slammed into the stone where her head had just been. She thought she heard someone shout her name but she was already spinning away and throwing herself into a run.

An idea had formed. A crazy, stupid, foolish idea that suggested she’d spent _far_ too much time with Thorin but, it was the only one she had. The others were in no position to save her. She was prepared to die to keep the ring from Sauron, had chosen Moria because if she _were_ to die it would be the best place, the safest place where she could throw the ring down a crevasse and hopefully keep it from Sauron for another thousand years until wiser minds than hers could decide the best way to deal with it.

She was prepared for all of this, had accepted it, but that did not mean she _wanted_ to die, or that she had any intention of quietly allowing it.

So if she wanted to live, and Yavanna knew she did, she was going to have to save herself.

She darted back into the corridor they’d fled from, the pounding behind her telling her the Troll was right on her heels. Her gut clenched as darkness fell about her. She couldn’t glow in the dark like Glorfindel or see in it as the dwarves could but she had a pretty good idea of how far they’d run.

A cool breeze hit her in the face, colder than she remembered when they’d first come through, and she skidded to a stop and spun on one heel, dropping to a low crouch with one hand braced on the ground.

As expected the troll was right behind her. It roared, forcing its way through the narrow corridor to try and reach her. The walls crumbled and splintered as it shoved its way in and, under her feet, the floor vibrated.

Bilba felt a bone deep terror at the sight of the massive creature looming over her and she bit back a whimper as the fear threatened to paralyze her.

Then, remembering what it was she was fighting for, she set her feet and threw herself forward.

Air rushed past her as the troll reached for her but she managed to roll under its grasping hands, and right between its feet. As she came up behind it she lost her grip on Fili’s knife and dropped it. She started to reach for it only to jump back as the troll howled in rage. It raised a foot and slammed it down in anger, and the floor cracked beneath its feet.

Bilba left the knife and ran, her breath coming in great heaves as the floor once again crumpled behind her. She heard the troll roar again and then a horrible cracking and the sound of it growing fainter as it fell deep into the mines.

The floor under her feet shifted, giving way and she tried to lengthen her strides, forcing herself to run faster. She hadn’t gone _that_ far down the corridor, she should be able to get back out.

She rounded the corner just as the stone beneath her feet vanished. She put her foot down on open air and her heart leapt into her throat, choking her. She threw her arms out desperately and felt chunks of debris and cracked stone against her fingertips. She grabbed them and cried out in pain as her body jerked to a stop, the edges of the destroyed floor slamming into her stomach. The rock she held sliced at her hands and fingers and the entire weight of her body dragged at her hands, trying to drag her down.

Bilba let out a sob and scrabbled at the rock, trying to pull herself up but she didn’t have the upper body strength, or the leverage.

“Bilba!”

Footsteps pounded toward her and then hands were grabbing her and wrenching her upward. She heard the floor crack alarmingly but her rescuer wasn’t waiting, dragging her back and forcing her out of the corridor and into the main hall where, presumably, the dwarves of Moria hadn’t undermined the structural integrity.

Arms closed around her waist, pulling her the last few feet as the floor finished giving way, destroying the rest of the tunnel altogether behind them.

Bilba looked up and saw Fili staring back at where the floor used to be, his eyes wide. “Why is it,” he gasped out, his breathing ragged, “that every time I take my eyes off you stuff like this happens?”

“Twice does not constitute every time,” Bilba said, her fingers clenched in his shirt and on his arm. “And this time wasn’t my fault. I didn’t go taunt the troll, it came after me. I was minding my own business.”

Fili shook his head.

Bilba looked past him and felt the blood drain from her face. Fili followed her gaze, his own expression grim.

The hall was full of orcs.

They swarmed over the floor like a living carpet, climbed the cracks of the walls, hung off the decorative elements of the pillars. Trolls were numbered amongst them, all well armored and with their own giant maces. The ground, what little she could see of it, was littered with dead orcs and a few trolls showing that the Fellowship had made a good showing of it, but ultimately a futile one.

Adalgrim appeared at her side along with Legolas and Kili, their final few arrows held at the ready. The others were there as well, driven back until they formed a protective half circle around her. Beorn was limping and bloodied and Aragorn had a nasty cut across his face. Thorin was favoring one arm but none of the injuries looked life threatening.

Thorin backed up until he was directly in front of her, blocking her from sight, and she reached out and put a hand on his back, curling her fingers into his shirt.

Around them came the sound of mass shuffling as the orcs moved forward. It was bizarre how silent they were, and how slow.

“They’re toying with us,” Thorin spat, as if reading her mind. “They know they have us.”

Bilba slid an arm around Fili’s waist and pulled herself in against him, shivering. He wrapped an arm around her in turn, the other holding his sword.

Behind her was the hole where the floor had been and she tensed at the realization that things had come down to what manner of death she would prefer. She could throw the ring in and let the orcs kill her, or jump with the ring and follow the troll down.

She didn’t want to die. She wanted to go home. She wanted to raise her sons, to see what kind of adults they grew into.

She tightened her grip on Fili, pressing the side of her face against his chest. She could feel his heart beating erratically against his rib cage, belaying his own fear. He had his eyes fixed on his uncle’s back as if he believed Thorin could somehow magically come up with a way out of this for them.

A low, rattling growl echoed through the hall and she jumped in surprise.

What was that? One of the trolls?

It repeated and now she heard a low murmur of unease go through the orcs, the creatures shifting and making nervous sounds.

“Now what?” Fili whispered.

A third growl, louder, and, suddenly, without warning, the orcs began to flee.

Bilba heard it, the sound of thousands of feet suddenly moving at once. Many of the creatures sounded panicked, shrieking and calling out as they ran. She couldn’t make out any of what they said but the tone was clear enough.

Whatever was coming was bad enough to scare them and there was only one thing she could think of in Moria capable of doing that.

Still shaking, she pulled away from Fili enough to peek around Thorin’s back.

There, at the far end of the hall, a red light was flickering.

Flickering, and coming closer.

She looked at Glorfindel and saw he was completely still, staring at the light. Legolas was staring too, his eyes wide and horrified.

Bilba stepped away and up to Glorfindel. “Please,” she whispered, “tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”

He was silent.

“It’s the ring,” Bilba said, resigned. “We thought it was just the Nazgul, or possibly the orcs, but it’s not. It’s all of them, every servant Sauron has. It’s calling them. They’ll never stop coming.”

Glorfindel’s jaw tightened and he noticeably calmed, his back straightening. “This one will.” He looked at Thorin. “Get them out now, while you have the chance.”

Bilba blinked in confusion, “wha--” Realization hit and she sucked in a breath. “Glorfindel, no! You can’t!”

He turned and dropped to one knee, his eyes fixed on her. “My dear, did you think we came just to show you the way, or to keep you company?” His gaze turned intense and he reached a hand out to lightly touch the side of her face. “We came to ensure this mission’s success, no matter the cost. It only takes one person to destroy the ring and, in the end, that person is the only one who matters.”

Bilba opened her mouth to argue but Thorin was wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her away. “We have no time, Bilba. He’s right. We have to go.”

“No,” Bilba said, shaking her head. She struggled against Thorin’s arm but it made no difference, even injured he was several times stronger than she was. “Thorin, no!”

Glorfindel stepped forward, raising his sword as, at the other end of the hall the light continued to come forward. He shot her an amused look and reached to pull his hair up, coming up with a cord that he used to tie it safely out of the way. “You see? I’ve learned. I have no intentions of dying, Bilba. I’ll catch up to you. You’ll see.”

“You can’t know that!” Bilba shouted. Thorin had dragged her past several pillars now, toward a door leading out of the hall. The rest of the Fellowship had gathered around her, Fili and Kili walking on either side of her, their faces grim. “Stop!” Bilba shouted. “We have to go help him!” Her eyes watered and her vision blurred, ruining her last sight of him as Thorin physically lifted her off her feet and carried her out the door.

She screamed in despair and rage, fighting to escape from Thorin’s arm. “Glorfindel!”

Then they were in another tunnel and she lost sight of him entirely.

She screamed again, sobbing as she pleaded with Thorin to let her go. He didn’t answer her, his face set. Around her the rest of the Fellowship was much the same, save for Adalgrim who was bone white, his eyes as wide as saucers and his breathing harsh and jagged.

He looked like she felt.

She continued fighting until Fili said something and Thorin responded by letting her go. She immediately tried to run back only to have Fili grab her and pick her up, holding her close to his chest. At this, Bilba gave in, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his neck, sobbing. One of his hands was on her back, his thumb moving slightly as he tried to comfort her but he didn’t say anything.

There was nothing to say.

Nothing at all.

 

***

 

They found the gates of Moria less than ten minutes later and passed through them without trouble.

Ten minutes.

That’s how close they had been.

Just. Ten. Minutes.

Fili set her down once they left but held her arms to stop her from going back in.

“We have to stay,” she said, turning to face Thorin. “Thorin, we have to stay. He could be hurt. We have to wait for him.” She was crying so hard she could barely speak, her voice coming in short, hiccupping gasps as she struggled to get the words out.

Thorin looked up, frowning at the sight of the sun sinking toward the horizon. The air was cool and the shadows long, reaching toward them like grasping claws.

He took her face in his hands, leaning forward until he was looking in her eyes.

“We can’t,” he said gently. “Just because the Witch King isn’t here now doesn’t mean he won’t show up. And the sun is setting, the orcs will be after us as soon as it does.”

Bilba hadn’t been paying much attention to the orcs. There were different kinds, some were like Azog and could travel in the day. They didn’t like it but they could do it. Others were far closer to goblin and, like them, never traveled on the surface so long as the sun was in the sky. Having fought here before Thorin would know exactly what kind they were dealing with.

She sucked in a gasping breath and shook her head. “But Glorfindel…”

“Did not stay inside so we could get caught outside waiting for him,” Thorin said firmly. “He stayed to buy us time and the only way to honor that sacrifice is to do what he asked of us.”

Bilba flinched at the word sacrifice but nodded shakily. Thorin was right. She knew he was right but it didn’t make it any easier.

He let her go and she pushed at Fili’s arms. “Let me go,” she said, her voice shaking. “I won’t go back.”

He obeyed and she gripped the edges of Aragorn’s coat, dragging it closer around her. She sniffed, took a shuddering breath and bit back an entire new round of sobbing. “Where are we going?”

Thorin looked over his shoulder, to where a line of trees rose in the distance. “Lothlorien.”

Bilba forced a tight smile that she feared was probably closer to a grimace. “The elves? Of your own free will?”

He gave a small smile of his own in return. “I did say I’d changed.” His eyes flickered to Beorn, still favoring a leg and breathing heavily. Legolas and Adalgrim both looked like they were in shock while Aragorn just looked grim and angry. Fili was still behind her so she couldn’t see him and Kili was next to her, his body still in a way that was entirely unnatural for him. “Come on,” Thorin continued. “The faster we get there the better.”

They all nodded and quietly fell in behind him when he started walking. Thorin, Bilba noted, walked with his face set ahead, not looking around him, and it occurred to her they were standing on the remnants of the Battle of Azanulbizar, where he’d lost both his grandfather and brother as well as countless other dwarves he’d probably known.

A shadow seemed to fall over the area and, faintly, Bilba could almost swear she heard the clash of swords, the roar of armies meeting, the screams of the dying and wounded. She shuddered and sped up, wanting off that plateau.

Thorin seemed to agree with her because he easily outpaced her and, before she knew it, they were moving through the large plain that lay between the mountain and the forest. As they pushed through knee high grass, Bilba turned to look over her shoulder, willing a figure to appear behind them but the area remained empty.

She turned back, watching as small insects, disturbed by their passage, spiraled up and flew away. If it were any other time she would have enjoyed the area. It was beautiful and she’d long had a wish to visit Lothlorien.

The rest of the group had fallen into a loose, two ringed circle around her. Thorin, Fili, Kili and Adalgrim formed the inner ring, walking in a close cluster around her. Thorin was in front of her, Fili and Kili at her side and Adalgrim just behind her. Aragorn, Legolas and Beorn were out further, ahead and to the side of her, leaving an opening at the back that would have finished off the second ring.

The setting sun cast them all in bright light, bringing their features into sharp relief. Bilba found herself studying Thorin’s back and then Fili and Kili where they walked on either side of her. Their faces were all set, their back straight and their strides sure.

They were breathing, alive, _there…_ and she could lose every last one of them.

She’d accepted the possibility of her own death but she could never accept the possibility of theirs.

Glorfindel…she’d cared about him…still cared, she chided herself, still because he wasn’t dead. He was simply delayed and would catch up to them soon enough.

Regardless, she cared just as she cared about Beorn and Legolas and Aragorn. They were her friends, she’d traveled home from Erebor with them and had grown close.

But none of them carried her heart the way the Durins did…or Adalgrim for that matter. No matter how messy they had eventually become he had been her first, and best, friend and no one had ever replaced that.

How would she face his parents if he died? His wife and children? What would she say to them?

And what about Fili and Kili’s mother? By all rights she should have arrived in Erebor to see her sons waiting for her. They hadn’t been, because they’d chosen to go with Bilba back to the Shire, to ensure she was safe. If they _hadn’t_ would they still be in Erebor now? Would Thorin have left them behind to protect the mountain while he came, assuming he even did?

Thorin. If anything happened to him she’d have an entire kingdom to face. It’d break Dwalin, and the rest of the Company.

It would break her too. And, assuming she somehow lived, she’d have to one day sit down and explain to her sons why they could never see their father, watch the light dim in their eyes as she told them he was dead.

Dead and never coming back.

Grief welled up inside her and she staggered to a stop, her hands clutched together over her heart as it felt like it would burst inside her. She dimly heard someone speaking to her but couldn’t hear it over the sudden roaring inside her ears.

They were all going to die.

They would _die_ and she would be left alone, their corpses gathered at her feet. Her legs buckled and she crashed to her knees, wrapping her arms around her stomach and leaning forward, her mouth opening in a wail of utter anguish.

It was all for _nothing._

They would _fail._

Sauron would take back what was his and leave everyone she loved dead in his wake.

Her mother flashed through her mind, eyes open and unseeing…only now she changed into Fili, skin pale, his eyes clouded, face twisted in a frozen expression of horror.

She saw her father, his body broken and crumpled…except it was Thorin, his body twisted in an unnatural position.

Her brother and it was Kili, a look of fear on his face as the troll raised him up and she was helpless to stop it, any of it, and then all of them were dead and nothing but the darkness was left, flowing around her and sucking her down until it was all she could see.

Hands grabbed her upper arms and pulled her up.

“Bilba! Bilba, look at me. Bilba!”

It felt like someone was physically pressing her head down but she managed to drag it up, focusing through her tears on Kili who was crouched in front of her. Fili was on one knee beside him and the rest of the Fellowship was gathered behind them with Thorin at their center.

“Give me the ring,” Kili ordered.

Bilba blanched and tried to jerk back but his grip on her arms was unyielding. “It’s alright,” he said quickly. “You’ve done it before and I resisted it, remember? With Smaug. We didn’t know what it was then. I gave it back, Bilba, and I can do it again.” He leaned forward until his forehead was pressed against hers. “Let me help you. Give me the ring.”

The ring.

Bilba swallowed down an impossibly dry throat and struggled to pull out of the darkness flooding her mind.

The ring exploited every weakness and she had _so many_ for it to choose from. Moria, and the memories it invoked had given the thing the opening it wanted, letting it worm in deeper than ever before.

“It’ll destroy you,” she managed to whisper through cracked lips. “It’ll pull out every insecurity, every doubt, every bad memory and bad dream. It has no mercy. If you falter, for even an instant, it will use it to tear you apart.”

“So I should just watch it happen to you instead?” Kili asked. “You heard Glorfindel. This is _why we’re here_. It was never supposed to be easy. None of us were misled. We knew the risks and we accepted them.”

Bilba studied them, her breathing harsh and loud in her ears. It hadn’t occurred to her before to give the ring to anyone else, in large part probably because the ring didn’t want her to.

Aside from that, however, there were few who could take it. Glorfindel, Legolas and Beorn were out of the question. They were too fast or too strong, if the ring corrupted them the rest of the Fellowship would be powerless to stop them.

Adalgrim craved the ring too much to ever be trusted with it while Aragorn feared following in the footsteps of his ancestors too much.

Thorin…Thorin had been corrupted before and understood it in a way that few could. This meant he could either be the best choice to carry the ring, or it could be like giving alcohol to one who struggled with their drink…an outcome she couldn’t risk.

That left Fili, who had never been tested, and Kili, who had, and who had, indeed, given the ring back.

He’d hesitated, but he’d given it back.

“It’s stronger now,” she said. “It won’t be so easy.”

“Fili can watch me,” Kili said. “If I fail he and Uncle can handle me.”

It was the first time he’d referred to Thorin as his uncle again out loud and Bilba saw by the way Thorin shifted that he’d caught it.

She lifted her hands enough to grip the underside of his arms below where he was holding hers. “It never stops,” she said, her tone pleading. “It’s always there.”

“So let me carry it,” he said. “Just for a little while. Until you’re stronger.”

Bilba locked eyes with him, studying him. He was a little taller than Fili and every bit as well trained but his frame was more slender than his brother’s, and far more so than his uncle. If it came to it, he was right, they could take him and force him to give up the ring.

She leaned in, sliding past his face until she could drop her head onto his shoulder.

“I can’t give it up,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You’re going to have to take it.”

She felt movement and then strong arms slid around her from behind. Kili let her go and Fili pinned her arms to her sides, pulling her back until she was sitting between his knees with her head tucked under his chin.

She was barely settled before Kili had the ring out from her pocket and was dropping it in a coin pouch that he quickly tied off to his belt.

Bilba sagged in Fili’s arms as he released her. Around her the landscape seemed to brighten even as the sun continued to set. She could see the beauty suddenly in the plain and the forest ahead of them.

Reaching into her pocket she pulled out the drawing she’d made of Ash and Frerin before she’d left and unfolded it.

“I’d forgotten what their laugh sounded like,” she said softly to herself, surprised. She started to fold the paper again, hesitated, and then lifted it up to hand to Thorin. He took it with a nod and carefully put it in the inner pocket of his jacket. He would give it back to her later, Bilba imagined, once he’d had time to look at it.

Fili stood up behind her, sliding his hands under her armpits as he did and pulling her to her feet.

“We should get going,” Bilba said shakily, her face heating with embarrassment over her breakdown and now being the center of attention.

Thorin looked toward the rapidly falling sun and nodded. “You’re right, let’s go.”

He made one step toward her, his arm partly lifting, only to abort the move abruptly. Before Bilba could wonder why an arm wrapped across her shoulders and Adalgrim pulled her in close. Thorin scowled but turned without a word and set off again, the rest of them falling in behind.

“What are you doing?” Bilba asked Adalgrim as they too began walking. The rest of the Fellowship had taken up their previous positons, with the exception of Fili who was now walking next to Kili several paces away on her left side.

“What do you mean?” Adalgrim asked in return.

Bilba shrugged, hard enough to politely give him the message that she wanted his arm off her. He frowned, but complied. “What? I can’t comfort my best friend?”

“You’ve never been much for hugging,” Bilba said. She frowned. “And you already said yourself, Ivy isn’t going to be happy about me dragging you off on another adventure, particularly given…things.” She trailed off, looking down at her feet.

Adalgrim sighed. “I should never have brought that up. I’m sorry, I’ve gone and made things awkward haven’t I?”

“A bit,” Bilba said dryly. “It was easier when we were kids, before everything went wrong.”

“True enough,” Adalgrim agreed. “For what it’s worth, though, I can assure you that any…feelings I might have once had are gone now. I love my wife, and my children. I’m happy with the way things have turned out.”

Bilba gave him a searching look, then smiled and grabbed his arm to pull it back across her shoulder again. Adalgrim grinned back and settled back to watch their approach to Lothlorien.

As they did, Bilba couldn’t help but twist around to look back, over the plain to the gates of Moria. She willed a figure to appear, turning all her mind to it, believing it as hard as she could.

But, as was so often the case, the world refused to obey her demands.

And so the gates stayed shut.

 

***

The ring was quiet, for the moment.

The female who had carried it had possessed many cracks, many areas that could be poked and prodded and manipulated. The ring enjoyed, as much as it could feel such an emotion, pushing and pulling on them, seeing the fear and pain each attack elicited.

Then the female had given it to another, one with fewer cracks…different cracks. The new one was on guard but that would change, as it always did, and then the prodding could begin anew.

Neither of the ones who had carried it were the weakest. _That_ one had yet to touch the ring at all. The creature was a fool, believing, as many had before it, that it could force the ring to its own purposes.

The woman had tried to force the fool to understand and, to an extent, she had succeeded, but the ring was not dissuaded. It had found a new crack in the fool, a _better_ one. It was harder to affect a mind not currently carrying it and it took longer but the ring didn’t mind.

It was patient.

It could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and credit to Drenagon for the idea of, in the absence of Pippin, Beorn being the one to accidentally alert the orcs. :D She has amazing ideas. :D


	17. Chapter 17

They were met by elves almost as soon as they crossed the border into the forest. Bilba followed quietly as they were taken to a tree with silver stairs leading up to pavilions and glittering structures balanced delicately on branches.

It was beautiful and part of her wished she could have seen it at a better time, under happier circumstances.

The Lord and Lady of the Wood waited for them at the top. They were classic representations of their race, tall and slender with flowing hair and unblemished skin.

Galadriel stepped forward to speak to them and Bilba grabbed Fili’s sleeve and buried her face against his shoulder, letting her body sag against him. She felt him adjust his posture to support her and relaxed, letting him.

Aragorn, Legolas and Thorin spoke to Galadriel, their voices low, but Bilba still heard the startled gasp ripple through the area as they reported the news of Glorfindel.

“We shall send aid at once,” Celeborn stated, his voice tense.

“It is too late,” Galadriel countered, her voice measured and calm. “Whatever has happened, is done.”

“We will still send scouts,” Celeborn insisted. “In the event he is injured and needs aid reaching the forest.

He seemed so convinced Glorfindel was alive.

Bilba prayed he was right.

Something tugged on her mind, not the jagged, painful prodding of the ring but gentle, like a cool wind brushing against her.

She looked up and found Galadriel’s eyes upon her.

 _“Do not despair, little one,”_ words drifted through her mind. _“Glorfindel is resourceful. Do not count him out just yet.”_

Bilba’s only response was to bury her face against Fili’s shoulder again. She was too drained, emotionally and physically, to do much else.

She dimly heard more speaking and then Fili moved enough to get an arm around her waist and guide her away from the platform, down the stairs toward the ground far below.

“You must be exhausted,” he said dryly at one point. “You haven’t commented on the lack of railings.”

They were taken to an area that she guessed was reserved for guests who didn’t much like the idea of sleeping at ridiculous heights. It consisted of several large tents, outfitted within with beds, tables and even separated bathing areas.

Fili coaxed her into bathing and getting changed into reasonably clean clothing. She moved much faster once the smell of food wafted in from behind the large curtains separating her from the rest of the Fellowship.

She came out to find two large tables set up just outside the tent, practically overflowing with food. Bilba headed over and was promptly snagged by Adalgrim who pulled her to sit down beside him.

She obeyed but was poor company as her focus was entirely on eating. Once that was done exhaustion reminded her of its presence and she just managed to stagger back inside the tent and collapse on the closest bed.

She was out before she’d fully hit the mattress.

 

***

She awoke with a start.

For a few seconds Bilba lay still, on her back, staring up at the blackness that was the ceiling of the tent.

Around her she could hear the sounds of the others breathing and a look to the side revealed Fili on the next bed, sprawled on his stomach with his face turned away from her.

What had awakened her?

She sat up slowly, not wanting to wake the others. On Fili’s other side she caught sight of Kili, on his back, his sleep clearly uneasy. She’d need to get the ring back soon, before it found a way to get to him.

Something moved just outside the tent, a shadow passing across the entrance.

Bilba hesitated but then got up and padded to the doorway, peering past the folds.

Galadriel was just a few dozen or so feet away walking, or more aptly gliding, toward a small hill.

As Bilba watched, she stopped and turned. Her eyes met Bilba’s for a split second and then she was gone, down what Bilba assumed was a set of stairs. That or the woman was floating which, really, wouldn’t much surprise her at this point.

She almost went back to bed. It was late and she was still tired. Galadriel clearly wanted to speak to her, however, and, with her good manners kicking in, Bilba sighed and left the tent.

It was cold and she immediately regretted not grabbing her jacket, but if she went back she’d probably be unable to resist the call of her bed so she wrapped her arms around herself and continued.

She found there were, indeed, stairs leading down the hill and, lo and behold, they had a railing.

The fact the elves were clearly capable of installing railings and chose not to made her question whether they were entirely sane.

Galadriel was at the back of a small clearing, next to a silver dish with a pitcher of water. As Bilba approached she lifted the pitcher and poured it into the fountain.

“Will you look?”

Bilba raised an eyebrow. She was perfectly aware of the elven gift of foresight and knew some elves even had the ability to allow others to see things as well.

“Is there something particular you would have me see?” she asked.

“It is not up to me to choose what to show you,” Galadriel answered, serenely.

“Lord Elrond sees the past and present at times,” Bilba said, “and occasionally the future, though he says it is not set in stone.” The other woman gave no response and Bilba found herself shaking her head. “There is nothing in the past that interests me, nothing in the present I can afford to have distract me and, as for the future, I know what is at stake, good and bad, so there is nothing new it can show me.” She shook her head again. “I will not look. I have seen enough.”

“But you are not nearly done,” Galdriel said, her eyes compassionate. “The pain you have felt now is nothing compared to that which lies ahead.” Her eyes narrowed and her voice lowered to an ominous tone. “There is one who would betray you.”

“He is fighting it.” Bilba curled her toes into the ground under her feet, feeling blades of grass and dirt pressing against her soles. “As am I, and Kili.”

“It will not be enough.” Galadriel moved forward and leaned forward to put her hands on her knees. It brought her face to face with Bilba but also reminded her of an adult speaking to a child and she found it surprisingly irritating.

Thorin’s influence no doubt.

“They would fall into darkness alongside you if you let them.”

“You mean like Glorfindel already has?” Bilba asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. “And what would you have me do? Leave them and go on alone?”

The other woman said nothing and Bilba’s eyes widened as a cold, deeper than the air around her, swept through her. “Did Glordfindel’s loss mean so much to you?”

“It meant much to Middle Earth,” Galadriel responded, “as did the loss of Gandalf before him.”

Bilba flinched. “That was not my doing. Neither was this.”

“No,” Galadriel agreed, “but they were still losses Middle Earth can ill afford. The ones you travel with now are no different. Thorin and his nephews are the last of Durin’s line; without them Erebor is a kingdom without a king, without a rudder with which to steer her path in the coming darkness.”

“She has Thorin’s sister,” Bilba corrected, “and Dwalin and Balin and Dain and a dozen others.”

“But none who can unite them the way Thorin can,” Galadriel replied. “Thorin Oakenshield, the hero of Moria, who took back Erebor from the maw of a dragon with but a few friends and a small hobbit. His people would follow him, and his line, into Barad-dur if he asked it of them.” She straightened, looking down on Bilba. “And what of Legolas? The only heir to his father’s throne, the one to lead the armies of Mirkwood in his father’s name if they should have to march to war. Or Beorn, who watches the pass between the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood.” Her voice dropped again, taking on a sad quality. “Or what of Aragorn? Whose father’s body was found where he had fallen, slain by Black Riders, leaving him the only surviving heir to the throne of Gondor. Who will unite Gondor against the coming darkness if he were to fall?”

Bilba’s vision blurred and she clenched her jaw. She’d noticed Aragorn had seemed unusually quiet at dinner but had suspected it was because he mourned Glorfindel. Now she realized the elves must have pulled him aside at some point and given him the news of his father.

“I get it,” she said softly, her voice bitter. “They are of great importance and I am not, so you would have me abandon them and continue onto Mordor alone. My loss would impact little.”

There was always Adalgrim, but even as she thought it she dismissed it. He was far too obsessed with the ring and, with just the two of them, she doubted she could fight him off if he tried to take it from her.

“On the contrary,” Galadriel said. “I believe you are the most important one of all. Ringbearer, the one who will save us all. It can only be you, Bilba. You are as vitally important to this mission as the others are to holding the darkness at bay. Destroying the ring is one thing, ensuring there is a world left after its loss is another.”

Bilba swallowed hard and looked away, wiping a hand across her eyes.

Galadriel looked past Bilba’s shoulder. Bilba turned to follow her gaze and saw a black silhouette standing at the base of the stairs.

“You should go to him,” Galadriel stepped away, back toward the small pan and its glittering water.

“And say what?” Bilba asked. “Good-bye?”

Galadriel said nothing.

Bilba spun on her heel and went to the stairs. She stopped just in front of Thorin as he swung her jacket around her shoulders and pulled it closed, drawing her close as he did.

“What did she say to you?”

Bilba pushed her hands out from inside the jacket and grabbed the laces of his shirt, idly toying with them. He’d come after her in nothing but a tunic and trousers and it never ceased to surprise her to realize his size had nothing to do with his armor and clothing and everything to do with the dwarf wearing it.

“Oh,” she said quietly, “you know. Death and destruction, end of the world.” She kept her eyes focused on her hands, tying the laces together and then undoing them again.

“Nothing new then,” Thorin said dryly. “So why are you so upset by it?”

“What would happen, do you suppose,” Bilba asked, “if Mordor were to march on Erebor again?”

“We stopped them once already,” Thorin answered. “I imagine we would do it again, and faster this time. There was already the makings of a fine army when I left.”

“We stopped them,” Bilba repeated, “but we wouldn’t be there.” She looked up to meet his eyes as best she could in the darkness. “You won’t be. Who would lead them?”

“Most likely Dain,” Thorin replied. “He’s as capable as anyone and has been a fine leader in the Iron Hills for years. He was at Moria as well, and garnered quite the name for himself.”

“And what would your people say?” Bilba asked. “If in their time of need, someone other than you led them to victory?”

Thorin was silent. Then he carefully took hold of her wrists and lifted her hands to rest on his chest. Bilba frowned but allowed it. He wrapped his hands around hers, pressing them to his heart.

“I spent years away from the Blue Mountains seeking work to help support my people, and more time after that on the quest to reclaim Erebor. My people would know, as they always have, that I am looking after them, whether present or not.” His voice took on a mildly amused tone. “If anything, they would be pleased to know there were three dwarves, of Durin’s line no less, on so important a quest. If you want something done right, ask a dwarf. If you want it done well, ask a Durin.”

Bilba snorted. “More like if you want something done recklessly and with a hint of suicide.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps. Are you going to tell me what she said to you yet?”

Bilba gently tugged her hands free and turned to walk past him, back up the stairs. “Ask me tomorrow.”

“As you wish.”

They arrived at the top of the stairs but, instead of going toward the tent, Bilba angled to the left. Thorin came with her, shortening his stride to match with hers.

Bilba followed the slope of the hill, rising up and over the small alcove where she had been minutes earlier. Looking down on it from overhead she could see it was now empty.

The hill sloped up a way more until it finally ended in a small, rounded mound. It faced outward, past the boundaries of the forest and into the open plains beyond. Overhead a billion stars glittered while, below, the world was bathed in the silver light of the moon.

Bilba settled down in the grass and Thorin sat next to her, looking out over the landscape.

It was beautiful, she thought to herself. It had been around for a thousand years and would be for a thousand more. To the stars shining overhead, and the earth beneath, a being like her must be little more than a curious insect, scrabbling about in the dirt for an instant before being quickly lost and forgotten.

She wondered if she were like that to the elves. Hobbits, and humans, lived such short lives in comparison to the eternity that elves boasted.

It was little wonder they kept to themselves, away from those races that flickered for so short a time before they were lost.

Was that why it was so easy for Galadriel to suggest going to Mordor alone? Because, to her, Bilba was but one in a sea of faces? There for far too short a time to grow attached to or to try to understand. The elves had experienced so much, grown so wise but had, in many ways, lost their ability to understand the emotions and fears of those who barely lived before they died.

It was pragmatism. The same that had allowed Elrond to set up a council with the expectation that she would accept the fate of the ring. The same that had caused Glorfindel to stay inside Moria to face a balrog and the same now that had Galadriel advising her to go on alone. This is what needs to be done, so go do it. It was the side of wisdom and experience that no one liked to look at. Children, too young to understand the ways of the world, gave into emotion while those older, and wiser, put aside their emotion and did what needed to be done.

Bilba drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around them and put her head down, turned to the side to study Thorin.

He was leaning back, one leg drawn up with his arm draped over it. His other arm was behind him, braced on the ground and his head was tilted to study the sky overhead. Moonlight traced him in silver and a light breeze brushed his hair back from his shoulders.

In some ways, he was similar to the elves. He had been alive for over a hundred years before meeting her and, if he were fortunate, would live several hundred more.

Over a hundred years, and, for a dwarf, he was considered young.

She was considered young, for a hobbit. Heading toward thirty-three and, if she were fortunate, she might live until a hundred.

Not even seventy years, and she’d be gone, while Thorin, and Fili and Kili with him, would still have hundreds stretching out before them.

As would her sons. They would barely know her before she died, and for a portion of that she would be quite old.

And then she would be nothing more than a faded memory, a ghost haunting the corners of their minds.

 

In the grand story that would one day be their lives, she would ultimately be little more than a footnote, already fast on her way to being a lost love, and a barely known mother.

There was little she could leave Thorin that was greater than what she’d already given him. Ash and Frerin would carry on her legacy and serve to remind him that once, long ago, there had been a hobbit he had loved…for a time.

As for her sons, what legacy could she leave them? Thorin would give them titles, riches and all the love she couldn’t once she was gone.

What could she leave them…except the world? The knowledge that their mother had destroyed the ring and saved them all?

She would rather that be their lasting memory of her, Bilba realized. Not an old woman dying in a bed but a hero like their father, who marched into the fires of Mordor and became legend.

There it was.

The truth she’d been circling round.

If she went with the Fellowship at her side there was a chance, a small one, but a chance she might make it back.

 

Without them there was no chance at all.

 

If she left them here, went on her own as Galadriel advised…she wasn’t coming back.

 

They would all forget her, be it after she passed away in bed, a withered, pale shadow of her younger self, or as a fierce warrior marching into Mount Doom.

They would lose her either way, and perhaps she was scared and perhaps she feared going alone but, in the end, how would she rather be remembered?

Bilba turned and put her head down on her knees, wrapping her arms around her.

She was actually trying to talk herself into leaving, she thought. Her stomach twisted inside her and she dug her fingers into her legs, shivering.

Could she do it?

Should she?

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Thorin said from beside her, his voice deep, “you’re most likely wrong. Talk to me. I can help you.”

Bilba gave a watery laugh and moved her head to look at him again.

She knew what she had to do, what she wanted to do, should do but, Yavanna help her, she was afraid to do it.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” she repeated in a whisper, more to herself than him. “Just sit with me for a little while, please?”

She didn’t understand the look he gave her but his only response was to stand up, walk over and sit down behind her. He reached out and drew her back against him.

He didn’t speak again.

Instead, together, they sat and watched the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to keep things similar to the tone that Tolkien used and, this section, in the books/movies was pretty dark for Frodo, or at least to me it was. Thus, so it is for Bilba though in a different way, unique for her character and circumstances.


	18. Chapter 18

The scouts Celeborn sent out returned with the sunrise, weary and battered from fighting orcs all night, and with despair heavy in their eyes.

There had been no sign of Glorfindel.

Bilba listened to the news quietly and then returned to the tents where they’d made camp. She settled down between the wide spaced roots of an enormous tree, her back against the trunk and watched the others pack.

It made her stomach twist, the thought of leaving Glorfindel behind, but they couldn’t afford to wait. Every moment they lingered risked the Nazgul returning or the orcs they’d been fleeing catching up to them. They still had no idea where those had come from or who had sent them, but the very fact they were there pressed home the need for haste.

She’d thought, initially, to screw up her courage and leave the night before. She’d run through the scenario over and over. She’d get up, walk to her tent, say goodnight to Thorin, wait for him to fall asleep, then pack quickly and leave.

Over and over and over again she’d ordered herself to push Thorin’s arms away and go, and over and over again she’d simply stayed where she was.

At some point she’d drifted to sleep only to wake up to find herself back in her cot.

Thorin had been sleeping across the entrance, one arm wrapped around her pack.

Currently he was near Beorn, helping the large man pack the food supplies the elves had graciously given them.

His back was almost entirely to her and, yet, Bilba had no doubt that if she so much as shifted position he would know it. She also knew why he hadn’t come over to ask her again what Galadriel had said the night before.

He already knew.

It had taken her some time to see through the act Thorin liked to put on. When she’d first met him she’d thought he was a rude, brusque, brooding dwarf with a horrible sense of direction. As much as it now shamed her to privately admit, she hadn’t put much stock in his intelligence or even his fighting abilities, attributing his success to perks of rank and the fact he was surrounded by other, more capable people.

She still remembered seeing him resting on the riverbank just after killing the Trolls that had murdered her family. By then she’d accepted just how wrong she was about his fighting skills but not the rest. There was no doubt in her mind, now, that Thorin had been aware of her line of thought which probably explained some of his attitude toward her.

He’d manipulated her so skillfully when she’d wanted to head off to bathe in private, putting her in a position where she couldn’t without it being seen as an open insult. She’d actually recognized it for what it was then but had dismissed it as a fluke, believing there was no way Thorin was that shrewd or cunning.

She’d been wrong, just as countless others had been wrong before her and after, were still wrong in some cases.

Thorin saw everything, his ability rivaled only by Kili’s and, really, knowing full well who the male influence had been in Fili and Kili’s lives, she should have put that one together. On top of that he was shrewd, cunning, manipulative when necessary, all the qualities needed for a King who didn’t want to find a knife in his back or his advisors draining the treasury while he was away.

He was brilliant, and discerning enough to pretend he wasn’t. To stay silent and observe, to, mostly, set his pride aside and let others think what they would, until they made the fatal error of letting their guard down and allowing him to see who they truly were behind whatever mask they’d chosen to wear.

Granted, he wasn’t perfect and she still didn’t have complete, or really any, faith in his directional capabilities, on the surface at least, but, outside of Fili and Kili, there was no one she wanted by her side more in the quest to destroy the ring…and Galadriel wanted her to leave him, and all the rest, behind.

Bilba sighed and pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms loosely around them and dropping her head onto her knees.

Thorin was still wearing his tunic and trousers and as he straightened from tying off a pack his shirt gaped for a moment, giving her a full, unobstructed view straight down his shirt.

The last time she’d seen his bare chest had been that riverbank, the mountain tunnels having been far too dark. As it had back then at the river, the sight rather threw her brain right off its proper, respectable path.

It was a very good thing that it _had_ been too dark in the tunnels for her to see because, if she had, she was pretty sure she’d have been more than intimidated and Ash and Frerin would never have been born.

Of course, she suddenly realized, Thorin could see just fine in the dark…which meant he knew perfectly well what she looked like without any clothes on.

Bilba felt her face heat. She was in decent shape, living on the road left little choice in the matter but _still._ The last person to see her naked had been her mother when Bilba had still been small enough to need help bathing. Did that mean every time he looked at her he…Yavanna. Bilba felt her face go even hotter and buried it in her arms for a moment, mortified. She was fairly certain she’d never be able to look him in the eye again and, to be perfectly honest, was wondering how she’d managed it up to this point.

Ignorance, that was it. She’d heard the phrase “ignorance is bliss” before and now realized just how truly accurate a statement it was. She’d been much, _much_ happier before coming to that little realization.

So much happier.

She raised her head again, just as Thorin grabbed another pack of supplies and threw it over his shoulder. Absently Bilba wondered where they were taking everything. Before she could give it further thought, her mind dismissed it as unimportant as her eyes offered up the sight of the way Thorin’s muscles flexed and moved under his shirt. He started off into the woods and she tilted her head unconsciously, watching him leave.

“You know,” Fili sat down next to her with a thump, “if you keep staring at him like that he’s going to get the wrong idea.”

Bilba’s face went molten and she jerked her eyes away. She caught a brief glimpse of Adalgrim watching her, an odd look in his eyes, and then she was focusing on Fili. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking…” her mind blanked and she swore at it for its treachery, “how I need to get in better shape,” she blurted. Fili raised an eyebrow and she nodded. “Yes. Whenever I see how in shape the rest of you are it makes me realize I need to work harder. I look at you and Kili the exact same way.”

“Mahal, I hope not,” Fili said fervently, looking mildly horrified. “That would make for awkward family dinners.”

Bilba gave him a dirty look. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was like Priscialla had said back in Rivendell. Priscilla was married, not dead. Well, Bilba wasn’t dead either. There was nothing wrong with her admiring an attractive male, and Thorin was certainly an attractive male. It didn’t _mean_ anything. “Says the dwarf who won’t even speak to his uncle.”

Fili shrugged and leaned back, draping his arms across his knees in a position similar to hers. He was still being annoyingly tightlipped about his reticence to so much as speak to his uncle, let alone forgive him for what had happened. He hadn’t allowed it to interfere with the quest, however, and had loosened up somewhat, so she left it alone. Fili was every bit as stubborn as Thorin or Kili when he wanted to be. He’d talk when he was good and ready and not a moment before.

“So what happened last night?”

Bilba scowled. “What makes you think anything happened?”

“My uncle isn’t the only light sleeper,” Fili replied. “I’d be surprised if anyone missed your leaving, aside from Adalgrim who I’m pretty sure could sleep through a Nazgul showing up.”

Bilba laughed. “He once fell asleep in a meadow and woke up to find himself in the center of a herd of sheep.”

“I’m not surprised,” Fili said dryly. “So, what was it?”

Bilba looked away from him, chewing on her lower lip. It was such a nice day, early morning haze still lingering, bees and other insects darting about the grass, the breeze cool. She could almost pretend she wasn’t heading to Mordor, or that she wasn’t currently facing the prospect of going alone.

She did that a lot of late, pretend. It’d been easier when she’d been younger and had done it just for fun and not because she was desperately trying to escape a reality nearly too horrifying to bear.

She nodded toward the rapidly dwindling pile of supplies. “Where are those being taken?” If they were simply going to load up the supplies and leave there was no reason to move them to a second location.

“It would seem they’re being taken that way,” Fili said, pointing at Legolas’ retreating back as he carried more through the trees.

Bilba glared at him but, after having so blatantly dodged his question, there was little room for her to complain. Instead she scooted closer and leaned over to wrap her arms around his bent leg. She rested her head on his knee and sighed, relaxing against him.

“Do you know how to get to Mordor from here?” Fili asked suddenly, casually.

Bilba tensed. “What?”

“You didn’t know how to get there from Rivendell,” Fili continued. “I was wondering if you knew how to get there from here.”

“If I knew how to get there from here,” Bilba said, echoing her words from Rivendell, “I wouldn’t need you lot.”

“You also wouldn’t need us if you knew how to fight, or if you weren’t currently outnumbered by orcs and Nazgul or if you knew the first thing about surviving on your own in the wild.”

Bilba lifted her head to glare at him. “I was on a quest with you for a year.”

“Where someone else was in charge,” Fili agreed, “and where Kili and I did most of the hunting. I wasn’t aware you knew how.”

There was a knowing look in his eyes and Bilba mentally chided herself for managing to underestimate yet another Durin. She put her head back down on his knee again. “I could figure it out,” she said quietly, “if I had to.” At the other end of the clearing Kili, who’d been sitting working almost feverishly on his arrows leapt to his feet suddenly and began pacing. “What of the ring?” Bilba said, almost to herself. “What if it takes you and pushes you to steal it? I certainly couldn’t stop you.”

“Which is why there’s more than one of us,” Fili broke in. “It’s not going to take us all at once. What if it took you? And you had no one there to stop you from carrying it straight to Sauron?”

Bilba groaned. Her head was beginning to hurt. There were so many what ifs and if thens. So many ways it could go wrong no matter what she did. Fili stretched his leg out and she laid down on her side with her head on his calf. It wasn’t particularly comfortable but she’d slept on far worse and in far worse places.

She watched Kili, his eyes fixed on the ground and his hands clenched into fists. “How’s he doing?”

“He’ll be alright.” Fili’s eyes were also set on his brother, studying him.

“I should take it from him,” Bilba said, starting to push up. “Before it gets to be too much.”

“He’s barely had it a day,” Fili said. “You carried it far longer. He’d take it as a personal insult to have it taken back now.” His eyes narrowed, calculating. “You can have it back in a couple of days, after we’ve gotten well enough on our way.”

Bilba’s eyes widened. He was forcing her hand, for the moment at least and in a way she hadn’t considered. She couldn’t forcibly take the ring from Kili and any attempt to do so would raise questions she wasn’t willing to answer.

“Fili,” she started but he was already moving, nudging her up and then standing to pull her up next to him.

“Looks like the Lord and Lady of the Wood are here. We should probably go say good-bye.”

He had a certain tone in his voice she’d heard a few times before, on the quest when he felt someone was being too harsh on Kili or a handful of times in Rivendell when an elf had decided to challenge Kili on his archery skills.

This was the first time she’d ever really heard it directed toward her and the look he was currently leveling on Galadriel showed exactly where he felt the fault lay.

With a burst of panic, Bilba looked around and caught sight of Legolas. She managed to catch his attention and waved him over, hoping to avoid an incident. The last thing they needed was for Celeborn to get angry and take back the supplies they’d so graciously given.

Legolas, fortunately, was quick on the uptake and headed them off easily, an action which earned Bilba an exasperated look from Fili. Aragorn soon joined them as did Beorn. Thorin was still gone but Kili wandered over to stand on the outskirts of the group.

Just before they reached Celeborn and Galadriel, Bilba gave a small shriek of surprise as an arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her unceremoniously away from Fili.

Adalgrim gave her a cocky grin as he slowed down, pulling her back from the group. Fili paused and turned back, clearly ready to kill Adalgrim, but Bilba shook her head and waved him forward again. He obeyed, reluctantly. Adalgrim pulled her farther away from the group, still in eyesight but far enough away to not be overheard.

“That was rude, Adalgrim,” Bilba hissed as he turned to face her, releasing her waist. He tried to grab her hand but she dodged him and he grabbed her arm instead as if he thought she’d run away if he didn’t.

Adalgrim shrugged. “Rude is them always monopolizing you. They’ve known you for what, a couple years now? I’ve known you your entire life.”

“Sans the time you were living in Buckland,” Bilba retorted, her temper short. “And it isn’t about quantity, it’s about quality.”

He scowled. The grip he had on her arm was possessive and made her skin crawl in a way it never had with him. Celeborn and Galadriel were speaking to the rest of the Fellowship but they were too far away for her to hear.

She started to pull away from Adalgrim and frowned, a burst of anger flooding her, as his grip tightened in response. “Let me go,” she ordered in a low voice.

“I don’t get you,” Adalgrim hissed, his voice frustrated. “It’s like you’ve abandoned your entire life for them.”

“I didn’t exactly have much choice after I was exiled from the Shire,” Bilba said sharply. Adalgrim still hadn’t released her so she reached up and dug her thumbnail into the soft flesh of his wrist, right where his palm met his arm. Adalgrim hissed and jerked his hand away, giving her a wounded look but Bilba just looked back steadily. He should have let go when she told him too.

“You had a choice,” he muttered, rubbing his wrist. “There’s always a choice. You could have stayed in the first place.” He looked away, his face troubled. “I could have stayed too. Not gone to Buckland. If I had things probably would have been different, for both of us.”

“I doubt it,” Bilba said. “You staying wouldn’t have changed how I felt.”

“Maybe not then,” Adalgrim said shortly. “But later. You never thought you’d fall for a _dwarf_ after all, did you?”

His mouth twisted on the word, making it sound vulgar and Bilba felt her ire rise in response. At the same time a cold chill raced through her. Adalgrim looked flushed and was sweating. He was agitated and his eyes kept darting toward the group, specifically toward Kili.

Thorin appeared from the woods. He frowned as he approached but started to pass by. As he did Bilba put her hand out, barely touching the fingers of his left hand. He stopped, standing beside her and just barely in front of her.

 _“See what I mean?”_ Adalgrim said, switching to Hobbitish. _“You turn to them like they’re your family. My parents were. I was. What happened to that?”_

“You weren’t happy with just being my family,” Bilba whispered, her voice hollow, “so you went to Buckland and left me behind.” She switched languages. “ _I lost my entire family. You and your family were all I had but you cared more about yourself and your own feelings than you did me.”_

Adalgrim looked stricken.

The Fellowship was breaking up, the elves dispersing. Bilba felt Galadriel’s eyes on her but refused to look. She wasn’t up for an “I told you so” look from an elf at the moment.

 _“You should go home,”_ she said to Adalgrim. _“Before the ring changes you so much your wife and children won’t recognize you any longer.”_

Or maybe she should simply leave after getting the ring back from Kili. She owed that to Adalgrim, and the others, didn’t she? Or did she? It was their world as much as hers, theirs to choose to try and save in whatever way they saw fit. She had no right to make the choice for them.

But…Bilba sighed.

But.

There was always a but and, with it, the cycle began anew, around and around, the decision made to go, to stay, to go again.

And never a clear choice to be had.

The others arrived and Bilba tore her eyes away from where Adalgrim was still staring at her, dumbstruck.

“Where are they going?” she asked, false cheer bright in her voice.

“We asked them not to watch us leaving,” Fili said, his own voice full of fake happiness.

Bilba’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why not?”

“Look,” Kili said, coming forward. “They gave us gifts before we left.”

“They already gave us gifts,” Bilba said shortly. “Plenty.”

“These are better.” With clear, and real, joy Kili held out a brand new bow and quiver, stocked full to overflowing with arrows. Fili had been given a new dagger, gleaming silver and gold with a wicked looking, curved blade. Aragorn had also been given a dagger and one had been sent over for Thorin as well. He seemed far less impressed and simply added the sheath to his belt, sliding it around to his hip opposite his sword.

Beorn sported an odd looking silver necklace fitted with strange symbols that didn’t appear to be elvish. The giant man seemed awed with it, continually touching it as if not entirely believing it was there.

“Here,” Fili said, holding a pile of rope out to Adalgrim, “this is for you.” Without waiting for a reaction he turned to Bilba and held out something for her. “And this is for you.”

Bilba started in surprise and took the object, a small, clear crystal vial filled with a silver liquid.

“It’s supposedly the light of a star or something,” Fili said. “I have no idea. It’s pretty, maybe you can use it to reflect light like a mirror and blind someone or set them on fire.”

“I doubt anything would stand still long enough for me to set it on fire,” Bilba said dryly, putting the vial away, “but I’ll keep it in mind.” She made a mental note to thank Galadriel properly later, after they were through this entire thing and she didn’t have to worry about the other woman pushing her to make impossible decisions.

“Now,” she said, focusing on Kili, “what is it you aren’t telling me? Where are the supplies?”

Kili cringed and looked away. Thorin got a more secure hold on her hand and pulled her in the direction they’d been transporting everything. “Let’s go see.”

Bilba followed obediently and the rest of the Fellowship fell in behind her.

It only took a few minutes walking before she began to see the river through the trees, the banks far apart with a great span of water rushing between them.

Her stomach began to gnaw at her and she frowned at Thorin. “Are we on the wrong side of the river?” If they had to use a bridge she might be able to handle it, if she closed her eyes and had someone carry her. It would be embarrassing but better than having a panic attack halfway through.

Thorin didn’t answer and the grumblings of her stomach grew worse. “Thorin? How are we going to get across?”

They broke through the line of trees and Bilba came to a dead stop.

There, just in front of her, was a line of four impossibly small boats, barely floating matchsticks on the water, each loaded down with more than enough supplies to cause them to sink.

“I’m going to kill all of you,” Bilba said shortly, her feet frozen to the ground. “Starting with Thorin.”

“I look forward to the attempt,” Thorin said, his tone decidedly suggestive.

Bilba made a strangled sound and gave him a horrified look. “That is not what I meant and you know it!”

“What?” Thorin said with a raised eyebrow, “you didn’t mean you wanted to challenge me to a wrestling match?”

“Why does it have to be a wrestling match?” Bilba growled through gritted teeth. “Maybe I just planned to stab you in your sleep.”

The smile Thorin gave her was simply not appropriate for the public setting they were in. “Even better.”

Bilba considered throwing herself in the river to escape the overwhelming feeling of mortification but then decided against it. Thorin would stop her and probably enjoy that too, the bastard.

Fili stepped up next to her and sighed in resignation.

“Just wait a few seconds before you try killing him,” he said flatly. “I need a moment to gouge my eyes out.”

“You can use one of my arrows,” Kili said, holding one out to him. “Just as soon as I’m done with it.”

The rest of the Fellowship, Adalgrim included, looked thoroughly scandalized while Thorin just looked smug.

Very smug.

Bilba mentally took back every nice thing she’d been thinking about him earlier, up to and including the idea that he was in any way, shape or form attractive.

 _Bastard_.


	19. Chapter 19

“I’m still not getting on those things,” Bilba said, folding her arms across her chest as she glared at Thorin. “They aren’t even boats, they’re sticks!”

“They’re elven,” Legolas spoke up. “It’s a standard design.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. Elves don’t live on the water,” Bilba retorted, “so you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust their ‘standard’ design.” She turned back to Thorin. “I’m not going. We can find another way to cross the stupid river.”

Thorin rolled his eyes and looked toward the trees of Lothlorien as if they could somehow give him the answers.

Adalgrim gave an exasperated snort. “You’re not still stuck on that are you? I’ve told you a million times, it was just a story!”

“What was just a story?” Fili asked.

“Shut up Adalgrim,” Bilba said, moving and reaching to put her hand over his mouth.

He caught her wrist and grinned at her, the darkness gone from his eyes for the moment, leaving him the same Adalgrim she’d always counted as close as a brother. Even after he’d left and run away to Buckland. “Come on, Bilba. Don’t you think you’ve been carrying this one a bit long?”

Bilba glared at him. “Shut _up_ , Adalgrim.”

She turned her back on him only to have him pull on her wrist and try to wrap an arm around her waist. Bilba immediately drove her foot back into his shin with the ease of long experience. She wasn’t a child anymore and the kick landed solidly. Adalgrim yelped and released her. Nearby Thorin frowned and started to come forward only to subside as she shot him a warning look. She wasn’t up to him and Adalgrim getting into it.

“What story?” Fili asked again. “Is it why she’s so terrified of water?”

Bilba marched over to stand next to Kili, looking past his shoulder to where the river rushed past behind his back. “You, move. We’re going to Mordor on our own, without the use of matchsticks on water.”

“There’s no other way to cross,” Thorin said matter of fact. “and we still have orcs on our tail. This is the fastest way to put distance between us and them.”

They had no idea if the orcs were still there, Bilba thought in irritation, and the rest was a lie. There was no way a crossing hadn’t been built at some point, somewhere, it was just farther than Thorin wanted to travel. She gave him a look letting him know she saw through him but his only response was to raise an eyebrow, challenging her right back.

“She’s been afraid of water since we were kids,” Adalgrim said from behind her. Bilba tensed, her eyes fixed on the water as it rolled along. “We had this big campout once, all of us kids on the hill. Set up tents in the party field, had a campfire, whole thing. Anyway, sometime during the evening we all got the bright idea to tell scary stories, made it a competition to see who could tell the most frightening.”

“We were hobbits,” Bilba said shortly, not turning her head, “and children. It didn’t take much.”

“True enough,” Adalgrim agreed. “But you always scared easier than most.” She ignored him, instead wrapping one arm around Kili’s bicep and leaning against his arm.

“Anyway,” Adalgrim continued. “I made up a story about a water spirit that would carry people away. She’s been terrified ever since.”

“That’s it?” Kili asked in surprise. “A scary story?”

“That’s it,” Adalgrim answered. “I always--”

“Adalgrim,” Bilba’s voice was flat, and weary. “Shut up.”

She let go of Kili’s arm and walked away, down along the riverbank. Aragorn straightened off the tree he’d been leaning against but Bilba shook her head at him.

She walked until the bank curved and took her just out of sight of the lot of them. Then she stopped and stood facing the water, arms crossed over her chest.

Boots stopped behind her and she sighed. She didn’t have to look to see who it was. She’d gotten used to him coming after her.

“Adalgrim never did know when to keep his mouth shut,” she said flatly. “He’s an idiot.”

“Agreed.” Thorin stopped next to her.

Bilba bit back a smile. “You’ll happily agree to any criticism of him.”

“Most likely.”

Her good humor faded. “I need the ring back.” She’d felt it when she’d grabbed Kili’s arm, the slight, continuous tremor running through him, the tightness of the muscles in his arm. “He’s hiding how much it’s affecting him.”

“Not as well as he thinks.” Thorin shifted, his own eyes fixed on the water. “Give me your word you won’t run the second you have it back.”

From further down the river a branch appeared, bobbing along in the water. Bilba wondered absently how long it had been on its tree, its home, before falling and being carried away to Yavanna only knew where, never to return.

“The only running I’m doing is far away from here,” she said shortly, “unless you can think of a way to convince me to get in one of those death traps.”

A folded square of paper appeared in her field of vision, held between two of his fingers, and she sucked in a breath, a dagger of pain slicing right into her heart. “ _Damn_ you,” she whispered. She took the paper and went into a crouch, unfolding it as she did to study the drawing of her sons.

“You can hate me if you want,” Thorin said from over her head, “just so long as it gets you in the damn boat.”

Bilba lifted her eyes in time to see the branch drifting by in front of her. It was dead, the leaves curled inward and the wood dark and brittle. One slender offshoot rose above the main body of the branch, an arm grasping for help, not understanding it was much, much too late. Her eyes tracked as it swept past and soon disappeared.

“How old were you when you heard that story?” Thorin asked suddenly. “Was it before or after you lost your family?”

“What does it matter?” Bilba asked shortly.

“I wondered if it was before,” Thorin explained, “and then you couldn’t remember what happened to them after--”

“Adalgrim thinks he knows everything about me just because we grew up together,” Bilba cut in. “He’s wrong.” She pushed to her feet and slapped the paper against his chest. “And so are you,” she said coldly. “Our children aren’t pawns. Don’t use them against me again.”

He started to reach for the page but she snatched it back and put it in a pocket of her coat. She then spun on one heel and headed back to the group.

She did not look back.

***

“Are you alright?”

Bilba’s eyes flickered toward Kili and away again. She was sitting rigidly in the death trap, fingers curled into the bench under her so hard she could feel the rough wood digging into her fingers. She was breathing so fast she was nearly hyperventilating and every time the boat bobbed or dipped she’d flinch, shut her eyes and whimper in anticipation of a watery grave.

“Yeah,” Kili muttered after a moment of silence, “stupid question.”

They’d been traveling for most of the day and well into afternoon. Fili was in a boat with Adalgrim, Legolas was in one with Aragorn and Thorin had one to himself. Beorn, naturally, was too big to fit in one and had alternated between swimming in bear form and running along the shoreline.

Bilba envied him greatly.

The boat bobbed again and she squeezed her eyes shut, a groan escaping between clenched teeth. She let out a breath and forced her eyes open, focusing on Kili. “How are you doing?” she gasped, trying to distract herself.

He’d been looking toward his brother but cut back to her. “I’m not the one afraid of water.” When she didn’t answer he grimaced and looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You need to give it back,” Bilba said. She kept her eyes on her knees as much as possible trying, rather unsuccessfully, to pretend she was anywhere else. “When we reach shore.” If they ever did. She risked looking up at him and quickly went back to her knees as she was rewarded with a wave of vertigo. “What’s it doing to you anyway? What’s it telling you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Sure,” Bilba said. “That’s why you were pacing back and forth this morning and why you look like you haven’t slept in a week already.”

“I can handle it,” Kili said, his voice annoyed. “You had it twice as long.”

“It wasn’t fully awake then,” Bilba retorted, “and we weren’t actively trying to destroy it. You saw what it did to me in Moria. I wasn’t even aware of half of it and I should have been. I knew I needed to be.” His jaw tightened and his eyes cut away from her. Bilba kept going. “I told you. It finds a crack. It’s not a failing, Kili. Everyone has a weakness and it’s a master at finding them.”

“Get out of my head,” Kili muttered. “It’s crowded enough with the damn ring in there.”

Bilba gave a tight smile and looked toward the shore where Beorn was loping along, keeping pace with them. “Sorry.”

“Has it been leaving you alone then?”

Bilba’s eyes flickered over to the boat Legolas controlled, and to where Adalgrim sat hunched. “So far,” she said quietly. “I think it’s been focusing its efforts elsewhere.”

“We’re going to beat it,” Kili promised. “We will.”

“I hope you’re right,” Bilba said, keeping her eyes on Adalgrim. “I really do.”

***

About an hour later they passed through a small channel where the river narrowed and the land on both sides jutted outward above them, forming forbidding cliffs.

Bilba had never been a fan of cliffs and was even less so after being thrown off one.

On either side the rock of the cliffs had been transformed into two towering statues, left arms outstretched and hands raised as if warding them off. Dimly, Bilba could hear Aragorn talking, explaining the history of the statues she thought. She wasn’t entirely sure, in part because she was too busy thinking the pose of the statues was a warning, as if she needed one, and a bad omen. Go back, turn around, stay away, not exactly a positive sign.

The second, and more pressing, reason she didn’t know exactly what Aragorn was saying was the sound of the water had been growing steadily louder until it was nearly a constant roar in her ears. The water had also grown faster and choppier, which led to her feeling increasingly more sick and convinced they were all moments from dying.

“Kili?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual. “Would we happen to be approaching a waterfall?”

His eyes narrowed. “Would it help if I said no?”

“No,” Bilba said, her voice tight. “It would not. I assume we’re stopping now, at least, before we go over?”

He nodded, eyes focused on Aragorn who was nodding toward the shoreline.

The _wrong_ shoreline.

“ _Kili_ ,” Bilba could feel thin tendrils of blood running down toward her fingertips from where she’d gripped the wood so hard it had split the skin open.

“There’s nowhere to land on the other side,” he said, apologetically. “And it’s too late in the day to travel, we’d risk getting lost.”

“Then we won’t have Thorin lead,” Bilba snapped.

The prow of the boat hit bottom with a bump. Before Bilba could process it giant arms were grabbing her and lifting her out.

“It won’t be so bad,” Beorn said, walking onto the land to set her on her feet. “One final trip and then no more water for the rest of the journey.”

“That sounds far less comforting than you might think,” Bilba said dryly, “on a number of levels.” Her feet touched solid ground and she sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

He nodded and headed back to help the others get the boats in and the supplies unloaded. Bilba waited until things were stacked on land and then began sorting them out to set up camp. Adalgrim joined her after a few minutes and, together, they had things well on their way by the time the boats were tied up.

The others joined them and it was a quiet hour and a half as camp was put together and a fire was set up. Sometime during it Kili announced he had no intention of eating more of the lembas bread the elves had given them and set off into the woods with his bow and arrow. He was back within a half hour with enough rabbits to provide a decent dinner for all of them. He and Fili set to work skinning them which led to Bilba retreating to the opposite side of the camp, near the woods, with a grimace. She’d done the same when she’d been on the quest to Erebor and later returning to Rivendell and the Shire. She liked going to the market and buying her food already reasonably prepared. Everything that happened before that made her squeamish.

Thorin tried to speak to her a few times but she was still angry at him and ignored him until he left her alone. It wasn’t entirely fair but she simply wasn’t in the mood to be fair at the moment.

Suddenly feeling as if the proverbial walls were closing in on her, Bilba pushed to her feet and walked into the woods. It was all too much sometimes, worrying over them, watching the ring tear at them, knowing it would soon turn its attention back to her, thinking of where her journey would end, and then the added weight of Galadriel’s words hanging over her head, the fear that whatever choice she made would end up being the wrong one.

She just…wanted a break. For just a second.

It occurred to her as she went in further, as the voices behind her faded, that she should probably have let one of them know she’d gone. She wasn’t going far, however, and she didn’t have the ring so there was no worry she’d run off with it. Not only that but Kili had been in the woods for some time hunting, if there had been any danger he’d have mentioned it.

He’d seemed calmer when he’d returned and she could see why. The woods were peaceful. The sun was beginning its downward trek and the light had changed from the sharpness of afternoon to the muted colors of approaching twilight. It came down in golden rays, filtered through the canopy overhead, dust and insects darting about inside.

The ground sloped and then rose again, rising at an angle. Bilba frowned, trying to decide if she wanted to go through the effort of climbing it.

“Did he give you the ring?”

Bilba flinched in surprise and twisted around to see Adalgrim standing behind her. “What are you doing here?”

“Did he give you the ring?” Adalgrim repeated, stepping closer. “Do you have it?”

Bilba went still. Adalgrim was looking at her with an almost feverish expression, his eyes wide and his face pale. His hands, lifted toward her, were trembling slightly and his breathing was erratic.

“Adalgrim,” Bilba said, slowly, taking a step back. “Why don’t we go back to the camp? They’re probably wondering where we are.”

She took another step back but suddenly he was right in front of her, grabbing her hands in his.

“Adalgrim!” Bilba tried to pull away but he tightened his grip, pulling her closer. “Let go!”

“We should take it and go,” Adalgrim said. “Just the two of us, before one of them tries to take it.”

“No one is going to try and take it.” Bilba tried to keep her voice calm, hoping to break through to him. This wasn’t Adalgrim, she knew that. “Adalgrim, it’s fine. The ring is safe.”

“It isn’t!” He jerked on her hands and she gave a short cry of pain as his fingers squeezed. “They’re all bigger than us, stronger.” He leaned closer until his face was mere inches from hers. Bilba leaned away but he transferred his hold to her wrists, his hands digging in. “We can go ourselves, Bilba. We can be together.”

“That isn’t what you want,” Bilba insisted, trying to get through to him. “Not anymore. Damn it, Adalgrim, stop letting the ring control you! You have a wife and children! You love them! Not me!”

He cursed and shook her and she jerked at her arms, lashing out with her foot as she did. “Let go!”

Her foot caught his calf hard and he shouted, his eyes going dark with anger. He released her and stepped back, one arm raised. Bilba saw it an instant to late and tried to duck.

Pain exploded through the side of her face and jaw, snapping her head around and to the side. Her body followed and she hit the ground, detritus tearing into her hands and pain blooming through her knees.

There was dead silence.

Bilba gasped in pain, shaking from the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. The side of her face throbbed and she reached an unsteady hand up to probe at it. Her fingers encountered tenderness and a sharp, stinging pain running along the center, starting near her ear and cutting down toward her mouth.

She lifted her head and saw Adalgrim staring at her, slack jawed, his eyes wide with horror. Her eyes went to his hand and a half bitter, half hysterical laugh burst out at the sight of the simple gold band on his finger.

His wedding ring. She touched her face again, her fingers finding a light stickiness and coming away tinged red.

“Bilba,” Adalgrim said, clarity returning to his eyes. He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, horror in his voice. “Bilba – I--”

He reached a hand out and she flinched. He froze, his eyes going impossibly wider. He opened his mouth to say something but Bilba didn’t wait to hear what it was. She scrambled to her feet, fighting off a wave of dizziness and darted past him, breaking into a run.

“Wait!” Adalgrim called behind her. “I’m sorry! Bilba!”

Bilba ignored him. She bolted into the trees, headed back toward the campsite, fear fueling her.

Someone called her name, a different voice and she caught sight of a figure ahead of her, sword clasped in one hand. Bilba increased her speed and, a few moments later, crashed into Thorin hard enough to rock him back on his feet. He had his coat, the new one he’d gotten in Rivendell, undone along with the chain mail he wore underneath. Bilba wormed her arms inside and around his torso, her hands holding onto the tunic he wore underneath it all. She pulled herself in until she was pressed against him, and buried her face in his chest.

“Bilba.” She heard the sound of him sheathing his sword and then he wrapped both arms around her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Footsteps crashed through the brush behind her and then Adalgrim’s hurried voice spoke up. “Bil – Thorin. I need to talk to Bilba.”

“Why?” Thorin’s voice went cold. Most people had the ability to sound angry or annoyed when they wished. Thorin had the singular ability to sound utterly terrifying. “What did you do to her?”

“I just need to talk to her,” Adalgrim insisted. “Please.”

Thorin moved his hands to her shoulders and nudged at her. “Bilba.”

Bilba resisted at first, then gave up and let her arms fall away, focusing on Thorin’s boots.

Thorin took her chin in his hand and gently pushed her head up, trying to make eye contact. As soon as he saw her face his expression turned flat and his eyes went dark.

Thorin raised his eyes, looking past her to Adalgrim. “You struck her?” His voice was like ice, so sharp Bilba was surprised it didn’t open actual wounds on Adalgrim.

“I didn’t mean it,” Adalgrim said. “Please. I just want to talk to her.”

Bilba pulled her head out of Thorin’s hand and stepped forward to burrow against his chest again, winding her arms back around him. He put an arm around her and rested his other hand against the back of her neck. “I would kill you right now if I didn’t think it would upset her further.” His voice went deeper, a surprise considering how deep it already was. “Get out of my sight, before I kill you anyway.”

There was quiet and then the crunch of dead leaves as Adalgrim left.

Bilba let herself cling to Thorin for another few minutes, until her adrenaline had faded and she’d gotten herself under control. Thorin gave her the space, simply keeping his arms around her and holding still.

Finally, Bilba took a deep breath and pulled away. She kept hold of the edges of his coat, studying his boots. “I should go talk to him.”

“He can wait,” Thorin said. “It won’t kill him. I might, however.”

“It was the ring,” Bilba said wearily. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“It wasn’t entirely his fault,” Thorin corrected. “The ring can’t force you to do anything and it can’t create things out of thin air. It takes what’s already there and makes it worse. In the end, his choice was his own, as was mine.”

Bilba leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest with a moan of despair. “I’ll be so happy when that stupid thing is gone.” She straightened and steeled herself, turning away from him with resolve. She should go find Adalgrim before he did something truly idiotic like attempt to attack Kili for the ring.

Thorin wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head. Bilba tilted her head back and scowled at him, even as she reached up and grabbed his hands where they were clasped at her collarbone. “I’m not a headrest, Thorin.”

“You’re the right height for it,” he mused.

Bilba gave the slightest hint of a smile, recognizing her attempt to lift her mood for what it was, and slumped completely against him with a huff.

“I hope you aren’t taking his idiocy as proof you should try running off on your own.”

“No,” Bilba answered. “I’m no more immune to the ring than he is.” She studied a nearby tree, watching the breeze rustle through the leaves. “I think,” she said slowly, “we need three, at least.” She twisted around to face him again. He put his hands on her waist and she gave him an exasperated look but didn’t remove them, instead putting her hands on his forearms and absently running them over his vambraces. “The ring seems to only be able to go after two at a time, the person carrying it and one other.” She frowned up at him. “Have you felt it? Or noticed it with anyone else?”

“To an extent, but not what you and Adalgrim have experienced and I haven’t seen it in any of the others.” His eyes narrowed, calculating. “I think you’re right. It focuses on the person bearing it and then probably whoever it sees as the weakest.” His look turned disturbed. “The fact we’re discussing it as if it’s alive is unnerving.”

“To say the least,” Bilba agreed. “Okay, so the ring gets to the bearer and one other person, there needs to be a third, someone capable of taking both the others if worst comes to worst.”

Thorin nodded. “So we need to make sure the Fellowship doesn’t fall under three. That means we can send Adalgrim home without much loss.” He frowned at her expression. “Don’t give me that. You know as well as I do he can’t stay.”

“It’ll just pick someone else to focus on,” Bilba argued. “I--”

Her voice cut off as, somewhere to her left, a roar rang out. Thorin’s head jerked up, his body tensing. “That sounds like Beorn.”

A shriek, from the same direction, sounded and Bilba felt her blood run cold. “That sounded like an orc.”

Thorin stepped away from her and drew his sword. “Get back to camp and warn the others. I’ll go help Beorn.”

Bilba started to move back, only to stop and dart forward. She grabbed the chain mail vest he wore and pulled it closed, then pulled his coat shut after, tugging on it to ensure it was tightly secured.

He gave her an exasperated look. “You’re more of a mother hen than Dwalin.”

Bilba gave a shaky snort. “No one is more of a mother hen than Dwalin.”

Thorin shrugged. “You haven’t met my sister yet.”

“I look forward to it.” Bilba tugged on his coat again, this time to get his attention. “Don’t you dare die.”

“I’ll do my best.” He nodded behind him. “Go.”

Bilba obeyed, running toward the camp. She stumbled several times, the falling gloom making it hard to see and her feet moving too fast to give her time to avoid branches and other hurdles.

She burst into the camp a few minutes later. Fili, Kili, Aragorn and Legolas jumped to their feet and instinctively drew their weapons as she stumbled to a stop.

“Bilba,” Fili said. “What happened?”

“Orcs,” Bilba gasped, pointing behind her. “Hurry. Thorin and Beorn are fighting them.”

Aragorn cursed and ran into the woods, Legolas at his side. Fili was close behind, barely pausing long enough to receive a tight nod from her ensuring him she was alright.

Kili started to follow, only to come up short as Bilba stepped in front of him, her hand out. “Give me the ring. We don’t know if they can sense it somehow, like the Nazgul can.”

Kili hesitated. “Fili and Thorin said--”

Bilba cut him off. Fili and Thorin forgot sometimes that, although Kili was the youngest of their family, he wasn’t a child. It undermined Kili’s confidence, caused him to question if he was capable of making his own decisions. Bilba hadn’t addressed it, considering it a family issue amongst the three of them, and, unfortunately, had no time to address it now. “Kili,” she said softly, “please.”

Almost trancelike, he reached into a pocket and pulled the ring out. He handed it to her without a word and then brushed past her and was gone, racing after his brother.

Bilba felt her eyes beginning to burn as she clutched the ring, still wrapped and tied with twine into a neat package. She forced herself to take her mind off her friends and her worry for them. In front of her the boats were lined up along the shore and she studied them, her eyes tracking across the water to the far shore. She’d meant what she said to Thorin. No matter what Galadriel might believe, Bilba didn’t agree with the idea that going on alone was the best idea. There was strength in numbers, particularly when it involved all the evil of Middle Earth chasing them and an equally evil ring trying to corrupt them.

“Bilba.”

She started in surprise and turned to see Adalgrim standing at the edge of the clearing.

“You were right,” he said shortly. “I have no business being here. I’m going home, now, while I still can.”

Bilba opened her mouth to speak but he wasn’t done.

“I should have known my own limitations.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I wanted to protect you and instead I ended up being the thing you needed protecting from.” He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers. “I’m sorry, Bilba. Can you ever forgive me?”

“I always have before,” Bilba said.

He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve never hit you, or any woman for that matter, before.”

“It was the ring,” Bilba said. “It wasn’t you.”

As she spoke she made an absent gesture with her hand, raising it to show the ring still clasped in it.

It was a monstrous error.

Adalgrim’s eyes went to it, his attention caught, and he froze.

“Adalgrim?” Bilba asked, cautious. “Are you alright?”

His head came up, and the person looking at her wasn’t Adalgrim. His eyes were wide, the pupils dilated so large nearly all she saw was black. His face was pale and he was sweating. Every tendon in his neck stood out in stark relief as if he strained against some unseen force and his body trembled.

“Adalgrim.” Bilba backed away, a chill running over her. “Adalgrim, snap out of it. It’s the ring. Adalgrim!”

The last was shouted as he darted forward. Bilba scrambled back but stumbled and fell onto her backside. She scrambled back but Adalgrim was already there. She felt a sharp tug on her hand and suddenly her hand was empty and Adalgrim was rushing toward the forest, the ring in its package clutched tight in one hand.

Bilba swore, loudly and creatively. She lunged forward, still only half upright, and raced after him. Stupid, she thought, she was so _stupid_. Of course the ring would try something. They already knew it had some sense of awareness, a will of its own. It had to know orcs were near, it _wanted_ to go to them and she’d gone and pretty much handed it over. _This,_ this was why she couldn’t go on her own, or even with just one or two others. For moments like these when she made _idiotic_ decisions like taking the ring from an able bodied warrior in the midst of a whole host of people actively trying to take it.

 _Damn_ it all.

She leapt over a branch, Adalgrim just ahead of her, the two of them running deeper into the woods with every footstep. Soon she began to hear the distant sound of weapons clashing together, the shriek of orcs and the occasional, answering roar of Beorn.

Fear started to take hold and a rock lodged in her throat. “Please,” she gasped out, her breath already burning in her lungs. “Please, please, please, please.”

Adalgrim burst out into an open section of wood and Bilba lengthened her stride, going so fast she was almost at the point of losing control and falling. She came out just behind him and threw her body forward with all the force she could muster.

Her fingers barely caught the back of Adalgrim’s shirt. She fell, dragging him back and down with her. The force of the fall stunned her, her body wanting very much to stay still for a few minutes and recover. Instead she forced herself to her knees, grabbing Adalgrim’s shirt and rolling him over. He’d had the wind knocked out of him, his back arching as he struggled to breathe.

Bilba snatched the ring back from him and pushed shakily to her feet, moving away from him as he recovered.

A shriek rang out, far to close, and she stiffened. Just past Adalgrim, at the top of a steep ridge, an orc stood looking right at her.

“Oh,” Bilba breathed. She darted forward again, dropping to one knee, and grabbed Adalgrim’s shirt. “Adalgrim, get up. Get up right now.”

He groaned and struggled to obey, still stunned from the fall and the ring’s control over him. “What?” he asked. “Bilba?”

At the top of the ridge the orc began running down toward them. Several others appeared behind it and Bilba made a strangled sound. “Adalgrim, get up now!”

She kept her eyes fixed on the orcs and he followed her gaze. His face went white and he swore, then clambered to his feet.

Then they were running again, this time together. Bilba was a few steps ahead, Adalgrim still slightly sluggish. Bilba headed toward the sound of fighting, hoping desperately she was bringing the orcs to a large number of the Fellowship and not to one or two members fighting alone.

Her hope was in vain.

Another hill lay ahead, a deer trail running up and over it. Bilba and Adalgrim charged over it, briefly putting the hill between them and the orcs.

As they crested, Bilba saw Fili standing in the midst of a pile of dead orcs, in the process of pulling his sword out of one. There was no one else around him.

Bilba knew without having to think about it that there was no way he could take on the number of orcs following them. Knew it, and also knew what she had to do about it.

Resignation settled over her even as she sped up, trying to get to Fili before the orcs came into view.

“Bilba.” He stepped forward to face her, breathing hard, the point of his sword dipping toward the ground as fatigue dragged at him.

He looked like she felt, her legs shaky and air burning in her lungs. Adalgrim was little better, stumbling to a stop and bending over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

Bilba grabbed Fili’s hands and shoved the ring into them. “Get behind a tree,” she ordered. “Now.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Bilba demanded. She pushed on him and he obeyed in confusion, moving behind a nearby tree.

Adalgrim straightened and started to follow him only to stop as Bilba grabbed him arm and pulled him out, onto the trail. “Not you. They’ve seen you and me. We can’t afford for them to stop and search.”

He gaped at her. “But they’ll catch us,” he hissed.

“So what?” Bilba steeled herself and was surprised at the sense of calm that settled over her. “The quest is what’s important, not us.”

At the top of the ridge, the orcs began to appear. Fili gave her a horrified look and started to step forward but Bilba stopped him with a look and a sharp, short shake of her head. If he stepped out now they would all die, and the ring would be taken. He knew that as well as she did.

She grabbed Adalgrim’s arm and tugged him away, trying to make it look as though the only reason they’d stopped was exhaustion. “Let’s not make it easy for them.”

Adalgrim was afraid but, to his credit, simply nodded. Bilba allowed one more look toward Fili and barely saw him hidden behind brush and the trunk of the tree. His hands were clenched in tight fists around the hilt of his sword and the ring, and the look on his face broke her heart.

“What if they can sense it?” Adalgrim whispered, taking a step instinctively back as the orcs began to pour down the hill.

“Pray they can’t,” Bilba spun and started running once more, Adalgrim falling in beside her.

They didn’t make it very far.

They’d barely made it out of that clearing, into the forest again, when Adalgrim shouted and was suddenly being yanked off his feet.

A second later a large hand was grabbing the collar of her shirt and Bilba was being wrenched backward. She tensed, fully expecting to feel the bite of a sword. Instead, to her own confusion, she was thrown over the orc’s shoulder and then the forest was flying past, faster than she could ever hope to run.

She didn’t scream. Her entire body was paralyzed with fear, her teeth clenched until her jaw ached. Her heart pounded and her blood was a roar in her ears.

But she didn’t scream.

The others couldn’t afford to be distracted, not by her or anyone else. The quest was more than any one of them, more than all of them.

The quest was about Middle Earth.

It was about her sons and the Shire and everything and everyone she’d ever loved. Everything anyone had ever loved.

It was about destroying the ring, and the ring was safe and so the quest was safe.

And, in the end, that was all that mattered.

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

Orcs, Thorin thought absently, truly had no grace when it came to sword fighting. They hacked and slashed wildly, hoping to get in a hit by accident or blind luck.

He dodged, a sword swinging wildly over his head. The creature had overstretched itself, placing Thorin solidly within its guard. Idiot. All it took was standing up and sheathing his sword in the orc's chest to end that particular fight.

Really, he thought with disgust, wrenching his blade out of the now still torso of his foe, they could at least _try_ to make it interesting.

He set himself for the next one, only to find there wasn't one. Kili was a dozen or so yards away, breathing hard and also looking around to see if they had missed any of the creatures. Thorin caught sight of Beorn, Legolas and Aragorn headed toward them and began to feel a slight hope that they had actually won this thing. He ran his eyes over his nephew, noting the easy way he held himself, the lack of pain in his eyes and determined the younger dwarf was uninjured.

He did a mental check of his own body. He was hot and in desperate need of a bath from the grime and ichor that came from killing orcs. He also had a number of bruises and cuts because even graceless orcs could get in a lucky strike or two when they had numbers on their side but, other than that, he was fine.

The feeling of hope grew, only to be dashed immediately when Fili appeared walking out of the trees.

His nephew's face was entirely drained of color, his eyes wide. One hand was clenched into a tight fist while the other gripped the hilt of his sword, his fingers flexing spastically as if fighting to do something.

"Where is she?" Thorin ordered, a sinking feeling already settling into his stomach.

"I just stood there," Fili said numbly. "She handed me the ring and told me to stay and I...just did." He looked at Thorin, really looked at him, for probably the first time since Erebor. "Why did I do that?"

"Probably because it was the right decision," Beorn said, striding up to them once again in human form. "Did they take the other hobbit too?"

Thorin didn't give Fili a chance to answer. "Which direction did they go?"

Fili's eyes, which had been on Beorn, came back to him. Wordlessly, he turned and pointed. Thorin gave a short nod and strode past him, heading in the direction of their camp. As he went, he pulled a rag from his pocket and cleaned the blood off his sword before sheathing it.

In the back of his mind an exasperated voice that sounded suspiciously like Bilba informed him that Fili would undoubtedly wildly misinterpret what he'd just done as some sort of blame or rejection.

 _Every moment I tarry,_ Thorin found himself responding, _is a step further you're taken. I'll speak to him, later, once I've gotten you back._

He could almost see her rolling her eyes at him and he sighed in exasperation. _You coddle him. He's a warrior, and a Durin. He's not some child in need of constant reassurance._

 _That doesn't mean he never needs it,_ her voice retorted, _especially when you're his uncle._

_What's that supposed to mean?_

There was no answer and he scowled. Trust him to fall in love with a woman who stood up to him even when she wasn't physically present.

He reached the campsite and grabbed the nearest pack, upending it and letting everything inside spill out. He then knelt and began repacking, this time with only the bare essentials. He doubted the orcs intended a leisurely stroll back to whatever pit they'd crawled out from. If he wanted to catch up to them before they reached it he'd have to move fast.

Kili knelt next to him, also reaching for a pack, as did Fili a moment later. The rest arrived soon after.

"Are we going after them then?" Aragorn asked.

"Are you actually questioning it?" Fili paused in loading up his pack to look up at the man.

Aragorn looked annoyed. "Of course not. I just--" he hesitated. "The only reason they had for attacking was the ring. We have no idea who sent them or where they're returning. If we go after them, ring in hand, aren't we just doing their job for them?"

Kili frowned, pausing in his own actions. "How is that not questioning?"

"We could hide the ring," Legolas broke in, "and return for it later."

"The Nazgul can sense it," Beorn said. "We have no idea where they are. If one were to return while we were gone they could find it."

"What about splitting up then?" Aragorn asked. "Some of us could take the ring onward while--"

"Bilba is the only one who's shown any true resistance to the ring," Beorn cut in. He nodded at Kili and Fili, "and those two, to an extent. Perhaps if we--"

"Bilba is the ringbearer," Thorin said flatly, "not my nephews, or any of you. We came with her to protect her, not abandon her or treat her as if a ring belonging to the embodiment of evil is somehow more important." He stood up, slinging the pack over his shoulder. "If we start sacrificing people in the name of destroying the ring we become no better than the orcs, or Sauron. What use is there in saving the world if, to do it, we become the very thing we seek to destroy?"

Kili stood up next to him and Thorin nodded at his nephew. "Let's go get your aunt."

He moved off, not bothering to check if anyone followed. Almost immediately, Kili fell in alongside him.

"You know," he said conversationally, as if there had never been any rift between them at all. Typical of him. Kili never knew how to end an argument and had always been more likely to just start acting as if it'd never happened with the hopes the other person would do likewise. "I think you have to marry her before you can call her that."

"I'm working on it," Thorin said dryly. "I might have a chance if the forces of evil stopped going after her for five seconds."

He heard footsteps crunching behind him. A glance behind him showed Fili at his back, sword clutched in one hand, eyes fixed past him. Further back the rest of the Fellowship was also starting to follow, having lingered to gather supplies of their own.

Thorin nodded to himself and refocused ahead. In his mind he saw his tiny One, one of the strongest people he'd ever met but housed inside one of the most delicate frames he'd ever seen. Hobbits were so damn _fragile_. They didn't have the thick bone structure of the dwarves, or even the strength or height of a human or elf that would put them at least somewhat on the level of an orc.

 _Hobbits were never meant to fight orcs,_ that same voice again and now Thorin found himself wondering if it was Bilba after all. _They were meant to be peaceful._

 _Peaceful folk in a world that rarely knows peace,_ Thorin thought. _How were they ever expected to survive?_

 _I would imagine that would be where you come in,_ the voice sounded amused _._

Thorin snorted. Kili gave him a questioning look but Thorin just shook his head.

_Are you afraid, O King?_

_No,_ he answered immediately. And he wasn't. He was _pissed._ He was Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, Lord of the Silver Fountains and the orcs had _dared_ lay their filthy hands on his One.

He would ensure they regretted it.

Every last one of them.

In his mind the voice that spoke like Bilba heartily approved.

***

Being kidnapped by orcs was certainly not the best experience Bilba had ever had. The fact she could say without hesitation it also wasn't the _worst_ experience she'd ever had said something about her life choices.

They'd been traveling for what felt like forever but was only, in reality, a day or two. Currently they were camped near a dark, foreboding looking forest. The orcs, who barely spoke to her or Adalgrim thankfully, had bound their hands, sat them near the fire and proceeded to continue ignoring them. Most of them were currently sleeping but a handful still roamed about or kept a vague semblance of a watch.

Bilba studied them, noting even less attention was being paid to them than normal. Shifting slightly, she slid a hand into her breast pocket, grimacing at the rough, scratchy feel of the rope on her wrists, and pulled out the drawing she'd done of her sons in what now felt like another life. She pressed it to her lips and then, feeling as if her heart were being torn out of her chest, tossed it into the fire with a single flick of her wrist.

"What was that for?" Adalgrim asked, his voice low. He was huddled next to her, his own eyes fixed on the orcs about them. This far removed from the ring clarity had returned to his eyes and he'd settled back into being the Adalgrim she'd once known, back before everything had gotten so complicated. Bilba too had felt the almost constant weight of despair and overwhelming sense of futility lift from her leaving her simply feeling...resigned. Her and Adalgrim's journey was nearly over and while she grieved the thought of never seeing any of her loved ones again, she also felt a sense of happiness that the journey would continue without her and that her sons, no matter what happened to her, had an entire host of people who would look after them in her absence.

"Wherever we're going," Bilba said, "whoever they're taking us to, the last thing I want them knowing about are my sons." She frowned, leaning her head toward him until they were nearly touching. "You should get rid of your watch."

He shook his head. "It only has locks of their hair, nothing that could be used to identify them with." He turned his head toward her, locking eyes in the flickering firelight. Night had long since fallen, revealing what would have been a beautiful starscape over their heads had it not been for the company. "It belonged to my father, and his father before him, and before him. It goes back generations."

"I remember," Bilba said. "I always wondered how _you_ got it. You're the youngest."

He grinned. "Father wanted it to be fair. We drew straws."

Bilba chuckled. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, settling her head on her knees. "I'm sorry, Adalgrim. You should be at home with them, not here."

He shrugged. "It was my choice." He pushed up a little, trying to see into the darkness. "How far behind us do you think the others are?"

"No one is coming, Adalgrim," Bilba answered, her eyes fixed on the flames. "They're long gone by now, continuing the mission without us."

Adalgrim was suddenly leaning forward to study her. "If there's one thing I know," he said, his voice intense, "it's that anywhere Bilba Baggins is, a Durin is sure to follow. They're coming for you."

"If they are I'll kill them myself," Bilba muttered. "I didn't give myself up just so they could hand deliver the ring. I'm not worth the end of the world, neither of us are."

"The end doesn't justify the means," Adalgrim said, looking back to the fire. "That's just a lie people tell themselves. What's the use of destroying that thing if we lose our own souls in the process?" He frowned. "Besides, if your positions were reversed, could you do it? Just leave him to his fate? Especially knowing one day you'd have to explain it to your sons?"

Bilba buried her head in her arms with a groan. A part of her wanted to tell him that his reasoning was naive, perfect for a place like the Shire where he'd never have to put it into practice but useless in the real world where difficult decisions had to be made every day and, sometimes, sacrifice was the only answer. The other part of her wanted desperately to believe him, to hope that Thorin and the others were behind her and would, somehow, someway catch up and save them. Being resigned to one's fate did not, after all, mean one _wanted_ it.

"He's in love with you, you know."

Bilba laughed in spite of herself, lifting her head to look at Adalgrim. "I'd noticed."

"Are you going to give him a chance?"

Bilba gave him an incredulous look and then nodded toward the orcs squabbling and fighting around them. "Is this really the time or place?"

"Why not?" he asked. "We may never get another chance and I'm curious."

"You're nosy is what you are," Bilba corrected. She sighed. "I don't know, Adalgrim. I can't just make myself fall in love with him."

"But you already know it's possible," Adalgrim pressed. "It isn't like with me, where you never had any feelings at all. You _were_ in love with him. If you were once you can be again. It just depends on if you want it or not."

"Why wouldn't I want it?" Bilba asked. She cut her eyes away from him, back onto the fire, and drew her legs in tighter. "He loves me and our sons, is more than willing to be a father to them and, going by Fili and Kili, will be an excellent one. He's honorable, loyal, a warrior--"

"And a king," Adalgrim broke in. "Don't forget that."

"Trust me," Bilba said dryly, "I haven't. He's wildly out of my league"

"Hardly," Adalgrim muttered. Before she could respond he continued. "So what's stopping you? What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid," she snapped. Her voice was louder than she intended and they both froze momentarily. Fortunately, none of the orcs woke and the ones already awake didn't seem to care. "I'm not," she repeated, lower this time. "He's a dwarf. His lifespan is several times what mine is. As far as he's concerned, he'd barely have me before he lost me."

"Now you're just making excuse. You think he doesn't know that?" Adalgrim shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position on the rocky ground. "If he seems willing to accept it and press forward anyway, who are you to tell him he's wrong?" She didn't answer and he sighed. "He broke your heart in a way you didn't think it could be broken. I know what that feels like." At the look on her face he added, "It isn't your fault. You're not to blame for my own misplaced feelings." He hesitated. "I do wonder sometimes, what might have happened had I spoken up, if it would have changed anything. I guess -- what I'm trying to say is, you shouldn't wait. If you're afraid of him hurting you again, or if you're afraid of something else entirely, you should work through it and figure out what it is you really feel. Because if you don't, you may just wake up one day and find out it's too late and the choice has been made for you."

"You know, it's really none of your business," Bilba said. "Why do you care anyway?"

"You're my friend," Adalgrim said. "I want you to be happy. You seem the happiest when you're around him."

"You know," Bilba said, deliberately and pointedly changing the subject, "you're a much better friend now that the ring isn't babbling in your ear."

"True enough," Adalgrim agreed. He frowned. "Is that what the ring did to you? It talked to you?"

"In a way..." Bilba trailed off, distracted as she started to become aware of a dull sound, an almost thudding noise that her mind told her she should recognize.

The noise grew louder. Around her the orcs that were awake started to take notice, their heads perking up and eyes going out beyond the campsite. Suddenly, one of them screeched loudly and, with that, the rest began to wake up, the entire camp breaking into a cacophony of sound.

Without warning horses were thundering into the midst of the camp, steel glinting in the moonlight as swords flashed, orcs shrieking as they died.

For one, wild moment, Bilba thought Thorin had come. That hope was quickly dashed as she realized the horses were being ridden by men, heavily armored men who would have no reason to think anyone in the camp was anything other than an enemy.

Not good.

Adalgrim was frozen in shock beside her and she grabbed his arm, dragging him to his feet. "We need to leave, right now."

He gave her a startled look but obediently followed her when she turned away. It wasn't easy running and trying to avoid fighting orcs and horses with her hands tied but she was determined. The last thing she wanted was to get killed by accident because someone thought she was an orc.

She dodged, barely missing both orcs and horses alike. Steel flashed from both sides and she grit her teeth, holding onto Adalgrim's arm with a near death grip. If she lost track of him in this melee she'd never find him again. He looked terrified, his face pale in the moonlight and his arm trembling under her hand where she was holding him. Dimly, Bilba thought she should probably be afraid and, perhaps, she was to an extent but this wasn't her first battle and was nowhere near the biggest she'd been in. She'd never previously thought of any of those battles as good things but she did now as the experience allowed her to keep her wits about her.

Around them the air was filled with the shriek of those fighting and the clang of steel as blades clashed. A horse crashed to the ground right in front her and Bilba felt her heart leap into her throat. She shoved backward, away from flailing hooves, taking Adalgrim with her. They both fell only to have to immediately roll as orcs nearly trampled them.

They were in so much trouble, Bilba thought, getting back to her feet. There were far too many of them and she and Adalgrim were woefully unprotected. Past the outer ring of chaos, she caught sight of the black shadow that was the forest they'd camped near.

"Come on," she told Adalgrim. "If we can make it to the forest we'll be okay."

He nodded, his eyes wide and panicked. He'd never been in a fight larger than a childhood scuffle. Bilba could feel herself shaking as adrenaline thrummed through her veins, her heart thundering in her chest. They had moved forward as they spoke and were crouched near the now still body of the fallen horse, using it as a shield from the battle raging around them. As soon as they moved they'd be in danger once more, but the carcass was no safer in the end; it simply offered a nice illusion.

The tide of battle shifted for just a moment, a clear avenue opening up to the forest.

Bilba took a deep breath, tightened her grip on Adalgrim and shouted, "Now! Run!"

The two of them bolted, straight toward the forest. They dodged a horse, orcs, a man who'd been unseated from his animal and was fighting from the ground.

They burst from the main area of fighting, stumbling as the ground changed, sloping down into the forest. Bilba felt a swell of hope rise in her. If they could make it to the forest they could hide until the fighting died down. Then perhaps they could risk approaching the riders, once they'd calmed down from their battle lust, or they could even just start trying to make their way back and see if they could meet up with the others.

Bilba was so focused on trying to think of what they would do after reaching safety that she lost sight of the fact they hadn't yet reached it.

They were mere steps from trees when the back of her shirt was grabbed and she was being wrenched backward.

"Where do you think you're going?" a guttural voice growled.

Bilba shrieked, a sound quickly lost in the overall bedlam. Her hand was ripped from Adalgrim as the orc who'd grabbed her threw her over its shoulder. She saw Adalgrim receiving similar treatment from another one and then a small group of those who preferred survival to loyalty were running, leaving behind their fellows, and Bilba's chance of freedom, without a backward glance.

She couldn't say how or why, but she had a strong feeling another chance would not be coming.

***

By the time the sun rose Bilba knew where they were going.

She'd read books, and seen drawings, of the massive structure known as Isengard. The wall encircling the entire valley was every bit as impressive as the books had reported, the tower of Orthanc looming over the top of the walls more imposing in life than it had ever been in the small paintings in her books.

The orcs put her and Adalgrim down as they approached a long, dark-looking tunnel, little more than a cleft in the rock, and shoved them both forward.

"What's going on?" Adalgrim hissed to her. "Where are we?"

"Isengard," Bilba answered. "They've taken us to the home of Saruman, the White Wizard."

"What?" His eyes widened. "We'd already wanted to go there. Why would they do that?"

"I don't know," Bilba whispered, a sinking feeling settling in her gut. One of the orcs shoved her hard between her shoulder blades and she stumbled, Adalgrim grabbing her to steady her.

"No talking!" the creature growled.

Bilba ignored him. She could hear a faint noise coming from farther within the tunnel, the clanking sound of metal and gears and the guttural sound of still more orcs.

"No," she breathed.

Bright light hit her in the eyes as they exited the tunnel and she squeezed her eyes shut, praying that, when she opened them, she'd see the lush green valley depicted in her books.

Her eyes adjusted and she opened them, and it felt as if she were walking into what she'd envisioned Mordor to look like. The river that should have been flowing through appeared to have been dammed, the water routed into large wheels, though for what purpose she didn't know. The trees had been torn down and used to build giant wooden structures and the ground...the ground was black and crawling with orcs, thousands of them...an army's worth.

As they were shoved forward she saw great rifts in the ground, opening to caverns below so large and appearing to extend so far she wondered how the integrity of the tower hadn't been affected. She saw massive forges, flames flickering within them, and realized the water was being used to cool them, just as the wood was being used in part to heat the forges. A lot of wood, far more than they could have just gotten from the trees within the ring of Isengard. She hadn't been paying attention outside but figured they must be taking trees from the forest.

She caught sight of large piles of helmets, weapons and armor down in the pits and felt her blood run cold. Saruman had enough orcs to form an army, and he was outfitting them for war. Her eyes ran over the orcs and she frowned as she caught sight of creatures that she'd never seen before. On the surface they looked like orcs but were larger, their bodies straighter and almost...human like. How...bile rushed up her throat at the thought of how Saruman might have created an orc, human hybrid and she slapped a hand over her mouth with a grimace.

Adalgrim was giving her a worried look and she forced herself under control, putting her hand down and giving him a sick grin she was sure didn't fool him for an instant.

"This is bad," he said, his voice barely audible.

That the White Wizard was conspiring with orcs, creating abominations and raising an army? Yes, Adalgrim, she thought sarcastically, this was bad.

"I've been in worse," she said instead, deciding on the spot to channel Thorin, or maybe Dwalin. Both of them had the oddest habit of looking at dire situation as if they were mild annoyances.

Adalgrim frowned. "That doesn't make me feel better."

Bilba shrugged. To her surprise she found herself actually calming down. Perhaps Thorin and Dwalin were onto something after all. "I think I'm starting to get used to it."

"Remind me to stop hanging around you then," Adalgrim muttered.

"That is probably for the best," Bilba said with a sigh, "look on the bright side, nothing has tried to eat us yet?"

He gave her a blank look. "That's a bright side? Is nearly getting eaten a common thing for you?"

"More than you'd think," Bilba said dryly.

She gazed down into a pit as they passed and her stomach twisted inside her. Then they were past but the engines of war continued to grind out behind her, the sound a warning and a threat for all of Middle Earth that, so far, only she and Adalgrim could hear.

***

Their hands were untied and they were dragged inside the tower and through ancient looking halls across black marble floors. In any other situation Bilba would have been fascinated by the history they were passing through. Now she just wanted to go home.

They were pushed through a door into a large room that she guessed to be in the center of the tower. There were several other doors, one set made entirely from stained glass, beautiful, delicate and glaringly out of place in the otherwise dark room. A pedestal dominated the center of the room. An object sat on top but a cloth lay over it preventing her from identifying what it was.

Directly across from where they'd been brought in was a large chair set at the top of a short flight of steps. It looked very much like a throne which, from what she knew of wizards, was the exact opposite of what they should be about.

Movement came from a nearby door and then a tall man was walking through. For the briefest of seconds his long hair, beard and robes reminded her of Gandalf and she felt a sharp thrill, quickly dashed by the realization that this man's hair, beard and clothing were white and that of course he wasn't Gandalf because Gandalf was long since dead and lost and could be of no help to her or Adalgrim.

"You have led me on quite the merry chase," the man intoned, his deep voice reverberating around the room. He climbed the stairs to the throne and sat. As he did Bilba noticed a long staff leaning against the wall next to him, long and smooth in contrast to the gnarled, natural looking one Gandalf had always carried.

"Who are you?" Adalgrim demanded. "Why have you brought us here?"

"Saruman," Bilba answered. "The White Wizard. I think perhaps the name no longer suits you."

"And why shouldn't it?" Saruman answered. "Am I not still the strongest of the wizards?" His face took on an amused look. "Those that remain anyway."

"If your status were based on strength alone I would agree," Bilba answered, "but I think it was meant to mean more than that wasn't it? I wonder, why were you were in Orthanc when all your fellows walked the earth, helping those in need?"

"Do not presume to think you can judge me," he said, irritated. "I do not answer to you."

"No," Bilba said, "but you answer to someone. Is it Sauron now?"

Beside her, Adalgrim sucked in a startled breath and Bilba wondered at just how naive her countrymen, or perhaps just Adalgrim were, that he hadn't put it together until just then. Then, thinking of the way she'd been exiled while someone like Fram had been allowed to stay she wondered if it was truly naivety or simply willful ignorance. They didn't see because they simply chose not to.

Saruman looked amused. "Poor Shireling. You think you can question me and I shall simply tell you everything?" He nodded to the two orcs behind them. They immediately stepped forward and grabbed Bilba and Adalgrim's arms, pinning them to their sides. "I think not." He stood up and walked toward them, grabbing his staff with one hand as he did. "A pity. You will die in ignorance."

He raised the staff toward them and Bilba tensed, her heart racing in her chest. She thought of Thorin, Fili and Kili and, most of all, her boys.

I'm sorry, she thought, desperately hoping that somehow, someway, they could hear her. I won't be there to see you grow up after all.

The end of Saruman's staff began to glow and Bilba shut her eyes, her hands clenching into fists in anticipation of whatever came next.

 _I love you,_ she thought as hard as she could, and braced.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Still half waiting for a blow, Bilba risked opening her eyes, and saw Saruman staring at her, his face twisted in anger.

"Where is it?" he demanded. "You're supposed to be carrying it. Where is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bilba said, her voice shaking. "We have nothing."

"You lie," he snarled, "and badly. You think I did not receive word from Rivendell? I know exactly what it is you were carrying, and I will have it." He barked a command and an orc appeared from a nearby room. "Go back," he ordered. "Find the rest of her companions and bring them to me."

"You'll never find them," Bilba said, her voice triumphant. "They're long gone and who said they even have anything you want? Maybe whatever you're looking for was never with us to begin with."

Saruman looked at her for a moment. Then he stepped forward and, before Bilba knew what was happening, grabbed Adalgrim and jerked him forward, away from the orcs holding him. Bilba made a strangled sound and tried to step after him but the orc holding her dragged her back.

"Ah," Saruman said, his expression calculating. "Not so brave now, are we? There's always a weakness." He barked an order at one of the orcs and it vanished through a doorway. It was back seconds later, holding a knife in one hand.

A white hot streak of pain shot through Bilba's shoulder and she gasped, her body tensing. Saruman gave her a sidelong look and smirked. "Ah, I see you've already tasted the bite of a Morgul blade have you? Then you know what it's capable of."

He held out a hand and the orc handed him the weapon. Saruman kept hold of Adalgrim with one hand and, with the other, brought the knife down near his arm.

"Don't," Bilba said.

"Tell me what I want to know," Saruman ordered. "Where is the ring?"

"Don't tell him," Adalgrim said suddenly. Bilba looked at him and he was standing straight, his chin up. He was shaking and pale and his eyes were wide but he fixed his gaze on her with a steadiness that surprised her. "You can't tell him."

"So you do know," Saruman said, "excellent. Then you're the only one I need."

With that, he dragged the edge of the blade along Adalgrim's arm. It broke through his shirt, and then his skin, raising a thin ridge of blood along his arm. He gasped, and Bilba shrieked, jerking forward.

This time the orcs released her and she darted forward, snatching Adalgrim away from Saruman. Together, they fell to their knees, Bilba shakily grabbing Adalgrim's handkerchief and using it to bind his arm. "You're going to be okay," she whispered, trying to convince herself as much as him. "You're going to be okay."

"You're a terrible liar," he whispered back, "anyone ever tell you that?" He was already beginning to sweat, his eyes taking on a glazed look.

"Everyone," Bilba said, her voice wavering.

"It will be slower," Saruman said from over her, "and far more painful, but the outcome will be the same." He was silent for a moment, watching her futile efforts to comfort Adalgrim. "I can save him," he said finally, "if you tell me what I want to know."

Bilba's mind flashed to Fili. Saruman didn't know what he was asking. He wanted her to choose between Adalgrim and Fili, between saving the life of her best friend who'd been practically a brother and her best friend who was practically a brother.

Worse than, that he was asking her to betray Middle Earth. She had no idea what his plans were, if he was in league with Sauron or in it for himself but she doubted his plans, whatever they were, had Middle Earth's best interests at heart.

If she gave him the ring Fili would die anyway. As would Kili and Thorin, her sons, everyone in the Shire, and Erebor and everyone else she'd ever cared about.

She shook her head, anger building in her at the choice he was forcing her to make. "I said I don't know," she snapped. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the way her heart was thundering in her chest. "I don't," she said through gritted teeth. "He has a family. Don't do this."

"Perhaps he should have stayed with them, then," Saruman said, his face impassive. He nodded at the orcs and then she and Adalgrim were being dragged to their feet again. Adalgrim let out a sharp cry of pain and Bilba flinched, the sound going right through her.

"Put them in a cell together," Saruman said. "Perhaps watching her friend die will help her memory."

The orcs began to drag them away and Bilba fought them, twisting around to look at Saruman. White hot rage was boiling in her veins and, at that moment, she hated Saruman more than she'd hated anything in her life and that included the trolls that had killed her family. They had always been trolls. Saruman had not always been this. His betrayal sullied the wizards, sullied Gandalf who'd done so much good in his days. Bilba hadn't always agreed with his methods but she'd never doubted his intent. He deserved better than someone like Saruman being included in the same class as he had been.

"You won't get away with this," she said, her voice tight with rage. "Whether you're working for Sauron or yourself. Sauron does not share power, and he will crush any who oppose him. You don't have the strength to face him."

"Oh, but I will," the wizard responded. "Once I have the ring. Which you will give to me."

Saruman turned and stalked out of the room. The door slammed behind him and then it was just her and the orcs.

She jerked and this time the creatures let her go. She ran to Adalgrim and wrapped her arms around him, helping hold him up.

"It'll be alright," he said, his voice already tight with pain. "You'll see. They're coming for you, you'll see."

"I hope you're right," Bilba answered.

She just prayed they made it in time.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a new story up if anyone is interested. It's a FemSteve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Marvel fic, 30 chapters long and is complete and being posted one a week as my beta is able to get to the bazillion chapters I dumped on her (and that she didn't kill me over for she is all things amazing). :D It's on Chapter 9. :D

The army was moving out.

Bilba stood on her toes, hands clinging to the bars of the small window and watched as they left. The cell Saruman had put her and Adalgrim in was high on the tower, so high that the creatures far below looked like little more than ants marching in their neat, orderly rows.

She knew better. They were orcs, and those other creatures, outfitted for war in their armor and carrying weapons meant to sow death and destruction wherever they went. She had no idea where Saruman was sending them but had no doubt those waiting on the other end were in for a bloodbath, especially if they had no idea it was coming and no time to prepare.

A low, rattling gasp came from behind her and she carefully lowered herself to stand flat on the stone slab that served as a bed. She turned and stepped off, heading to the other slab that Adalgrim lay on. Just past him stood a wooden door, half rotted with age but still more than strong enough to keep her locked inside.

She settled on the edge of the bed and forced a grin for Adalgrim. He looked awful, drenched with sweat from the fever raging inside him, his skin white, his eyes murky and glazed. He shivered uncontrollably, so violently she was afraid he'd physically harm himself. His bouts of consciousness had grown fewer and far between and she'd begun to prefer him unconscious if only because it removed him from the pain for at least a little while.

He was awake at the moment, his eyes roaming about aimlessly. Sometimes he was coherent when he was awake. Other times he thought himself back in the Shire at various stages of his life, still living at home, married or somewhere in between.

His eyes found her and locked on. "How long?" he rasped through parched lips.

Coherence then, she thought. "Total?" she asked gently. "Two days."

Lie. It had been four but she didn't have the heart to tell him. The longer it went the less hope he could be saved and she didn't want to take the only thing he had left to hang onto.

Adalgrim frowned, his eyes turning away from her. "What -- what -- you see? Outside?"

Bilba turned to look over shoulder at the window on the other side of the cell. "Blue sky," she said, describing what she saw at that moment. "Green grass and a swift river," she added, describing what she wished she'd seen. "It's a beautiful day, Adalgrim."

He swallowed. "Wish -- wish I could--"

He trailed off and she reached out to pat his shoulder. "I know," she said gently. "I wish you could see it too."

He drifted off again soon after and she settled back on her own slab with a sigh, watching him. Sometimes it felt like she was doomed to sit by and watch those she loved die. Her mother, father, her brother, Gandalf, Glorfindel...Adalgrim.

Part of her wondered who was next while another part scolded her for allowing bitterness to seep in. She didn't want to be bitter. She didn't want her sons to have that sort of person for a mother. She was doing her best to remain positive, to believe Adalgrim was going to be fine and they were both going to get out, somehow, finish this damn thing and go home.

Wherever home might be for her. Probably Erebor assuming that army currently marching out of Isengard wasn't headed there. She prayed it wasn't. Prayed, but feared no one was listening.

It was easy to feel forgotten in that small room. Saruman hadn't been to see them once and the only sign of life they got was an orc who brought them their food, what little there was of it. She tried to imagine where the others might have gotten to and what they were doing but doubted they were having it much better than she was. They were heading to Mordor after all with a ring of evil set against them.

She hoped they made it. She hoped the ring didn't break them, change them, send back a bare remnant of the people they had once been. She hoped Thorin could return for his sons and his throne, that Fili and Kili got to grow up and experience all that life had in store for them, that Legolas got to return to his father, Beorn to his home and Aragorn, maybe, to a throne he'd never seen but certainly would have earned by the time this was all over.

She hoped for a lot of things.

For some reason Thorin's face came to mind. Specifically, the way he'd looked after burying her parents for her, his hand outstretched to help her to her feet to walk back and view their graves. He'd held a hand out to her again, she thought absently, later that same day when she'd been losing herself in grief and guilt over their passing. The next time had been when she'd first realized her feelings for him and had been in the process of freezing to death because she was too stubborn to move closer to the fire. He'd taken her by the hand to lead her out of the tunnels under Goblin Town and again to lead her from the awful Lake-town that some moron had decided to actually build _on_ a lake.

He'd held her hand in Erebor as Smuag hunted them and then, much, much later, he'd held a hand out to her as she'd scrambled up a hillside toward her crying son after having fallen over it running from a Nazgul.

She gave a low chuckle only to start in surprise at Adalgrim tiredly asked, "what's so funny?"

Bilba jumped to her feet and scrambled over to curl up on the slab next to him as best she could. Adalgrim gave her a weak grin, a clarity in his eyes she hadn't seen in days.

"What's so funny?" he asked again, his voice so low she barely heard him.

"Just thinking," Bilba said, keeping her voice low, "it seems every time I'm at my lowest, or scared, Thorin always seems to be there with his hand out, ready to face it with me." She looked down to where she'd clasped her hands in her lap. "I doubt I can expect that to happen here."

"He'll come," Adalgrim muttered. He grimaced as a wave of pain wracked him and squeezed his eyes shut. Bilba tensed in empathy but there was little she could do to help him.

She forced a smile, kicking herself for letting him see her falter. "I'm sure he will," she whispered, trying to sound confident for him.

Adalgrim gave her an exasperated look that reminded her of when they had been kids and the worst thing they'd had to worry about was if they were going to make it home in time for supper.

"He'll come," he repeated. "If he has to take on those orcs out there by himself, he'll come."

"He would try something that stupid," Bilba muttered. She didn't mention there were very few orcs left for Thorin to take on. She had no idea where the army was going and didn't want Adalgrim's imagination getting away from him, certainly not now when he was actually in his right mind for the first time in days. Maybe, she left herself think, just maybe he was going to pull through this on his own. She'd never heard of it happening before but, then, it wasn't like most people got cut by a Morgul blade and simply suffered from it. Usually the ones wielding the blades didn't leave their victims alive to suffer.

The wound in her own shoulder began to ache, as it did every time she stayed close to Adalgrim for too long, but she clenched her fists in her lap and didn't touch it. She'd never mentioned to Adalgrim that it would never fully heal. Her eyes went toward his arm, a mottled white and black speckle around where Saruman had cut him, the area looking like a giant bruise on his far to pale skin. She'd tell him later, she decided, when he was stronger.

"You aren't angry anymore," Adalgrim suddenly whispered and she frowned at him.

"What?"

"You were always...so angry." His eyes drifted closed and Bilba felt a stutter in her heart before his eyes opened again and she felt her heartrate return to normal. "You hid it...pretty well...not respectable and all that...but I could see it."

Bilba thought back to the trolls, pure hatred roiling through her as she demanded Thorin kill them the way he'd promised he would. She sighed. "I thought getting revenge on those trolls that killed my family would make me feel better." She shrugged. "It didn't." She hadn't thought about it for a long time. She'd been caught up in remembering what had happened, finding her parents, mourning them all over again and so forth. Even then she'd barely had time to think about it before they were leaving Rivendell and then there had been Goblin Town and Azog and on and on and on and, in the end, it hadn't been until she'd stood at her parent's grave for a second time on her way home that she'd really gotten it. The pain had still been there, and every bit as bad.

"I don't regret those creatures being dead," she told Adalgrim. He reached a hand out as she talked and she quietly took it in hers, his fingers cold and clammy. "They would have kept on killing if we'd left them and there would have been other orphans, other dead parents and children. I'm glad we saved them, whoever they were." She took a deep breath. "I regret having done it in anger, and I regret pushing Thorin into it."

"He'd have done it anyway," Adalgrim said, squeezing her hand.

"He would have," Bilba agreed. "But he already had so much anger of his own and all I did was add mine to it." She looked at her friend, trying to ignore the way his eyes roamed aimlessly, not fixing on anything. He was settling on the bed, she noted, his body relaxing slowly into the stone. "It wasn't one of my finer moments," she continued. She interlaced their fingers, squeezing his hand, and then put her other hand on top, holding his between both of hers.

Adalgrim gave a weak laugh. "I've had a couple of those myself. Leaving you...when you needed me...one of them."

Bilba smiled, a genuine one. "I forgive you, if you'll forgive me for letting you go." He'd been her brother, in every way but blood. Perhaps he should have looked past his feelings for her in order to be there when she needed him but she could have looked past her own feelings to try and keep him. Not in the way he wanted, perhaps, but she could have tried at least talking to him, seeing if they could have worked things out and, if not, perhaps at least parted as friends.

She would have liked to have kept him as a friend. At the very least it would have removed one more regret.

"You've changed," Adalgrim murmured, "so much."

"I hope for the better," Bilba said.

"Certainly so," Adalgrim answered. "You will be...an amazing mother."

Bilba let out a surprised laugh. "I hope so. I hope the twins aren't giving your parents much trouble."

"They aren't," he said, seeming sure of himself. His eyes traveled to hers. "You'll tell them won't you? My parents....and my family..."

Bilba nodded. Her eyes started to burn and she struggled to keep her voice steady as she answered. "You were a hero. You made a difference. Without you we would never have made it this far. They were on your mind, always. You did it all for them." Her voice broke on the last and tears leaked out unbidden from her eyes, tracking down the sides of her face. "It meant something," she said, promising him now. "It will mean something. I swear it, Adalgrim. I swear it on my own life."

He gave a weak nod. "I believe you." His eyes began to drift closed and she felt his hand tighten in hers. He smiled, his voice so faint she could barely hear him. "Good-bye, Bilba. See you tomorrow."

Word they had spoken to one another a thousand times as children, biding each other farewell before parting for day.

_"Bye Bilba! I'll see you tomorrow!"_

_"Okay, Adalgrim! I'll see you then!"_

"Okay, Adalgrim," Bilba whispered. "I'll see you then." Her voice broke entirely on the last and she clenched her teeth to hold back a sob, tears running unchecked down her face.

He didn't open his eyes again. The hand in hers relaxed a few minutes later, his fingers loosening in her grip and going lax. The lines of pain that had been permanently etched in his face for days smoothed out and the shivers wracking his frame faded away.

Bilba let out a sob finally and carefully put his hand on his chest, adding his other so both were clasped together. She smoothed his hair back and straightened his body and clothes.

Taking his face between her hands, she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "I'm sorry, Adalgrim."

With that she pulled away, put her head down on his stilled chest, wound her fingers into his shirt, and cried.

***

Bilba sat with her back against the stone wall, her head down and her arms wrapped around her drawn up legs. The cell was silent, and dark the sun having long since set. There were no torches in the cell so the only light was the pale silver of the moon shining through the window.

Distantly she heard the sound of the door to the level being opened, the wooden frame scraping across dust and grit on the door. Saruman, she thought dully, there to threaten her again.

Steps approached the cell and she waited, expecting him to have mock or berate her but there was only silence.

After a few minutes she heard the sound of keys jangling and then the metallic scrape of the lock being manipulated, tumblers moving with a loud clank. The screech of the door being pulled opened echoed through the corridor and she heard the whoosh of a torch as it was carried closer.

Light flickered from behind her closed eyelids and she felt the presence of someone looming over her. She kept her head down, unwilling to see past the figure to the still form on the slab behind them.

She waited, hoping Saruman would get his threats out of the way quickly and leave her be. He didn't and she realized soon he was going to force her to look at him so he could threaten her to her face.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat, and raised her head.

There was a hand in front of her face, fingers outstretched. She blinked in surprise and looked up in confusion.

"Hey," Thorin said, trying to sound gentle with a voice that was far too deep to pull it off effectively. "What do you say we get out of here?"

Bilba stared at him in disbelief, her mind denying that what her eyes were seeing could possibly be true. Thorin didn't speak again, or move, just continued to stand with his hand outstretched.

Finally, Bilba reached out, slow and tentative, half convinced he'd vanish any second. Her fingers encountered his, solid, warm, and she suddenly she was moving. Her hand gripped his and he pulled her forward and up back onto her feet.

Once there Bilba kept going, stepping forward and throwing her arms around him, her hands going around his back as much as they could and gripping his clothing in a near death grip.

And then, for the second time that day, Bilba Baggins burst into tears.

But, this time, for a different reason entirely.

 


	22. Chapter 22

Bilba only allowed herself a few moments before she pulled away from Thorin. She started to reach a hand up to wipe her face only to have Thorin cup her face in his hands and do it for her.  Bilba gripped the back of his hands and tried to conjure up a smile for him but the muscles in her face offered only a tremulous facsimile of one.

"We need to leave," Thorin said gently and she nodded.

"I know." She didn't ask if they could take Adalgrim. She already knew they couldn't. Instead she steeled herself and went over to where Adalgrim lay. Her vision wavered and she ran an arm across her face to try and clear it.

She retrieved his watch, sliding it into one pocket as Thorin came over to stand beside her.

"It's been in his family a long time," she said, her voice shaky. "His son deserves to have it."

"I'm sorry," Thorin said, his eyes dark.

"Me too." Bilba straightened and turned to face the cell door. "It won't mean anything if we fail to destroy the ring." She fixed Thorin with a look. "I'm not failing."

"Of course, not," he answered easily. He headed toward the door and Bilba fell in behind him, forcing herself to not look back.

Adalgrim wasn't there anymore, not really. While she hoped to see him again one day it would not be in that room.

She caught up with Thorin in the hall, wrapping one arm around his bicep and reaching down to grab his hand with her free hand. "Since you managed to get in," she said, nervously, "is it safe to assume you have a way to get out?"

"I do," Thorin said. "The others are waiting for us downstairs."

Bilba gave him a startled look. "The others? Please tell me you didn't bring Fili with you."

He gave her a dry look. "Trust me. I got this far didn't I?"

Bilba frowned in suspicion. "You seem rather overconfident."

He shrugged. They reached the stairway leading to the next level and he pressed against the wall next to it, raising a hand to stop her behind him. He drew his sword and held it loosely in one hand, listening, then nodded at her to continue as he started down.

They went down quietly, level by level and Bilba's suspicions soon started to grow as, with every level, they failed to run into anyone. "What's going on?" she whispered. "Where is everyone?"

"Probably watching the show outside," Thorin murmured. He was crouched low, looking out the door of the room they stood in, to the corridor outside. When he was sure it was empty, he stood and headed out, toward the next stairwell.

"What show?" Bilba hissed but he shook his head and didn't answer, still focused on listening for orcs.

Bilba let out a short sigh of frustration. She hadn't bothered to look out the window after the army had moved out, and the room had been too high on the tower to hear anything happening down below.

They went down another stairway and, for the first time, Bilba could hear the distant sound of fighting coming from farther below. Strange roars echoed up through the windows, as well as what sounded like the occasional splash of water, which made no sense as she knew the river had been damned up.

She didn't bother trying to ask Thorin what was going on again. His attention had sharpened even more with the distant sound of battle and Bilba responded by quietly falling in behind him, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder as he led her through empty halls and down silent stairs.

It seemed to go on forever and she'd lost count of how many stairs she'd gone down when she stepped down what seemed like the millionth one and gasped in shock as her foot splashed into ice cold water. She jerked back instinctively, wincing as the cold stayed with her, numbing her foot. Looking down she saw water lapping gently over the stone step she'd had her foot on. Past that it grew deeper to what, on her, would probably be knee deep.  For Thorin it would be less so though she didn't envy him the feel of wet clothing and armor. Speaking of which...

"What happened?" she asked, "and how are you not wet? I know you didn't come up the outside of the tower."

"It wouldn't have changed anything if I had," Thorin answered. "The Ents released the river and flooded the entire area." He grinned at her. "Welcome to the new ground floor, at least until the water recedes."

Bilba blinked at him in stunned disbelief.

She wished she could have seen the look on Saruman's face as he watched his precious tower flood. Her mind focused on the rest of what Thorin had said.

"Ents? What are Ents?"

"Walking trees apparently," Thorin muttered. "Luckily, they're on our side."

"At least someone finally is," Bilba replied tiredly. Thorin gave her a questioning look and she sighed before nodding in return. Bracing herself as best she could, she stepped into the water, and then forced herself to quickly take the final few steps to the floor itself before she could talk herself out of it.

The cold had her tensing immediately and she wrapped her arms uselessly around her torso as her teeth began to chatter. Thorin came down beside her and pointed down the hall. "Come on, faster we get out of here the faster you can get back on dry land."

"Just as a note," Bilba said shakily, "I'm currently convincing myself I'm in a rather large puddle. If I look out a window and see a damn lake that's probably going to change rather rapidly."

"Then I suggest you avoid looking out any windows," Thorin said dryly. "And I won't mention how we're going to get you to dry land."

"Probably for the best," Bilba agreed. "The fighting seems to have stopped." The sounds of it had lessened and she now realized she couldn't hear it at all.

Thorin grunted in agreement and then nodded toward the wall. "Stay there a minute, would you?"

Bilba blanched. "You're leaving me?"

"Only for a moment." He grinned at her in reassurance. "I always come back, don't I?"

"According to Adalgrim," Bilba said absently as she sloshed over to stand shivering against the wall.

Thorin paused and Bilba gave a huff of annoyance, her arms clasped tightly around her chest. "The faster you go the faster you can come back."

He gave a short nod and then was moving away from her, sword still held at the ready. Bilba watched him go and tried to pretend her heart wasn't in her throat as he vanished around the corner.

The sound of Thorin pushing through the water faded and silence fell in the corridor but for the quiet lapping of water. It had already well soaked into her clothing, the feeling of ice spreading through her legs and on upward until all she could feel was numbness and cold.

With nothing to do but wait, Bilba's mind returned to Adalgrim. The grief hadn't left or abated. It had merely retreated to the corners of her mind where it had lain gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. The tears came back readily enough and she clenched her jaw until it hurt as she fought to hold them back. She needed to stay strong, not just for Adalgrim but for her sons who were waiting for her back home.

Unfortunately, that turned out to be the wrong thing to think about as her mind immediately turned to Adalgrim's wife and children, particularly his newborn who would grow up without a father. Her eyes started to burn and she sucked in a breath that was dangerously close to a sob.

The sound of multiple bodies moving through water came from around the corner and she tensed, her fingers digging into the cold flesh of her arms. A moment later she let out a cry of relief as Thorin came into view, with Fili and Kili flanking him.

Bilba pushed off the wall and, as fast as she could in the water, made her way over. She threw herself into Fili's arms first as he was the closest and he grabbed her back in an embrace so tight it was nearly painful, lifting her full off her feet. He looked haggard and exhausted and she clutched at his biceps in concern as he sat her back down again.

"I'm all right," he said in answer to her unspoken question. "I'm sorry, Bilba. I should have been able to stop them from taking you and Adalgrim."

"No, you shouldn't have," Bilba said, her voice firm. "There were far too many of them. If you'd tried they would have most likely killed you which means I wouldn't have been able to get rid of the ring and Saruman would have it now." He wasn't meeting her eyes and she ducked down to make him look at her. "You did exactly the right thing, Fili. Do you understand me?"

His eyes flickered toward hers and softened fractionally. "I understand," he said quietly.

Bilba hugged him again and then pulled away to face Kili, who'd been quietly standing at his brother's elbow waiting his turn. Bilba wrapped both arms around him and he pulled her in close, his entire body sagging with relief against hers.

Still hugging him, Bilba looked back at Fili again. "Please tell me you don't have it on you."

He gave her a sardonic look. "It's safe, unfortunately." He frowned. "Where's Adalgrim?"

"Not coming," Thorin said shortly. He held up a thick piece of cloth he'd gotten from somewhere. "We need to leave, Bilba."

Bilba tensed, already knowing what he wanted. "What about Saruman?" she asked, stalling.

"He's been dealt with," Thorin replied.

"Dealt with?" Bilba repeated. "How did you deal with a wizard? Did you bring an army along with your walking trees?"

"No, I brought something better." Thorin gave a cryptic smile and then stepped forward to wrap the cloth securely around her eyes, knotting it at the back of her head. "All right," he said, gripping her upper arm, "let's get out of here."

Bilba obediently began to walk but could feel her body locking up with every step. Images of water, deep and black, floated through her mind and with every footfall she was convinced her next would plunge her into a dark abyss. Thorin shifted his arm to her waist, pulling her forward but she made a strangled sound and pushed back against him, her feet skidding along the wet stone of the floor. "Thorin."

The word came out more a plea than anything else and she felt him shift. An arm slid under her legs and then she was being swept into his arms. Immediately she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against him, her entire body shaking from a mixture of fear and cold. "I don't want to drown," she managed to get out, desperation staining her voice.

"You're not going to drown," he said firmly. "I've got you."

Bilba responded by curling into a tight ball in his arms. Thorin hadn't been wrong, back near the river when they'd left Lothlorien. When she'd lost her family, and couldn't remember what had happened the first thing she'd thought of had been that stupid story Adalgrim had told. She'd wondered if that had been it, if they'd camped near a river and a water sprite had risen during the night and dragged them all away. She'd had nightmares, horrible nightmares that, on reflection, had been mixed with reality; screams and blood and the sound of water.

Learning the truth hadn't erased years of carefully constructed fear and even now her mind vividly presented her with images of being dragged down through the depths, the sun vanishing quickly overhead as utter darkness became her only companion, the strain of her lungs as they screamed for air.

She felt a breeze on her face and froze, her breath harsh and ragged. A loud ringing had started in her ears and she barely heard someone speaking, the voice oddly booming and slow. Thorin answered, his voice a low rumble that caused his chest to vibrate against her.

Then he was stepping forward. Bilba clenched her teeth and let out a quiet whimper. She could only imagine what Thorin thought of her. "Sorry," she managed to mumble even as she tried to burrow farther into him.

"For what?" he asked.

"I was trying to do better with water." She _had_ been doing better, not great granted, but better. She'd managed the river and the elven death traps, sort of.

"You've been through a lot of late," Thorin said simply. "No one expects you to be perfect."

He stepped forward and she tensed only to feel what she could swear were branches close about her back. Then they were moving and she sucked in a sharp breath. Thorin's arms tightened around her and she struggled to relax. She could feel a gentle swaying suggesting they were moving and heard the slosh of water as what she assumed was one of Thorin's walking trees carried them through the lake that now surrounded the tower.

She desperately hoped someone had thought to map out where the giant holes leading to the underground forges were. If they were to step into one by accident it would send them straight down where she imagined, if she were lucky, she would die from fright before she drowned.

After what seemed like an eternity the swaying stopped and she felt a rush of vertigo that suggested they were being lowered. Thorin moved and the branches surrounding her vanished.

"We're on land again," Thorin said. He grabbed her shoulders and firmly turned her in a specific direction, putting himself behind her. She felt him grab the knot of the blindfold and then, in one quick motion, pull it off.

Bright sun struck her in the eyes and she put a hand up automatically, shielding them until they adjusted. Once they had she carefully lowered her hand, and gasped in stunned disbelief at the sight of the elf standing in front of her.

"Glorfindel?" she whispered. She looked at Thorin who smiled in reassurance.

Bilba let out a shriek and lunged forward. Glorfindel dropped to his knees as she reached him and threw her arms around him in a tight embrace only to release him almost immediately to study him. He looked tired and sported an impressive looking bruise across the side of his face but, other than that, he appeared fine.

"You survived the Balrog," she whispered. "How?"

"Kept my hair up this time," he said dryly. "I'm sorry it took so long to return, little one."

He made no effort to go further into detail and Bilba let it alone. Going up against a Balrog would be traumatic enough without adding in the fact that one had previously killed you.

"It's all right," she said fervently. "I'm just glad you came back."

Still holding onto him, she turned to look behind her and felt her eyes widen at the scene spread out before her. Thorin hadn't been joking when he said the river had been released. The tower now stood in what could only be described as a lake, the water running up past the stairs that led into the tower and well into the bottom floor where she'd met up with Fili and Kili.

That wasn't the most amazing sight, however. That was reserved for the creature standing at the very edge of the water, just behind Thorin, Fili and Kili.

Following her eyes, Thorin said, "Bilba, I'd like to introduce you to Treebeard. Treebeard, this is the hobbit I told you about. Bilba."

"Walking tree indeed," Bilba whispered in awe, shooting a look at Thorin. Her eyes traveled up the creature, the branches and limbs forming his head and the kind face looking down at her. She let go of Glorfindel enough to step forward and give a careful curtsey. "I'm pleased to meet you, Treebeard. Thank you for your help in freeing me from the tower."

"You are welcome, my dear," Treebeard responded. The words were slow and drawn out and judging by the long suffering look on Fili and Kili's face, not anything unusual.

As the Ent finished his greeting, Bilba looked past him again toward the tower. She could see other Ents, some looking like Treebeard while others looked like different sorts of trees, standing about in the water. She guessed they had dealt with any orcs who'd remained while Thorin, Fili and Kili, and presumably the rest of the Fellowship had dealt with any inside.

She frowned at Glorfindel. "Did you defeat Saruman then?"

"No," a new voice spoke from her left, "he did not."

Bilba blinked in confusion as her mind automatically identified the voice even as it simultaneously rejected the identification as impossible. She turned to see Aragorn standing next to Legolas and Beorn and, there, standing in the middle of all of them...

 

"Gandalf?"

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope you all had a fun, and safe, celebration! :D :D  
> This is a pretty short chapter as it mostly just ties up some loose ends before we start up a new arc. I probably should have just tacked it onto the last chapter but I misjudged how much I had left! :D Anyway, things are going to pick up speed in a BIG way after this so I hope you are all ready! :D :D

"That's not possible," Bilba said in disbelief. "I saw you die."

"For a time," Gandalf agreed, "but I was sent back. My work here is not yet done."

He looked different, Bilba noted. His hair, gray and usually flying wildly about, was snow white and perfectly straight. His gray robes had been replaced with white ones and there was an almost palpable aura of power crackling about him. 

"You look like Saruman," she blurted without thinking and was surprised when he smiled in response.

"I am Saruman, in a way," he said. "Or, rather, I am Saruman as he should have been."

"Oh." That...really didn't explain things but Bilba was willing to accept it if it meant she got to have one more friend back from the dead. She stepped forward hesitantly. Gandalf knelt and then, much like with Glorfindel, Bilba found herself suddenly rushing forward to hug the older man. She half expected to pass right through him like a phantasm but her hands encountered physical mass, real flesh and bone beneath his white robes. She threw herself against him and felt the steady beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. 

Putting her face next to his ear she asked, "You came back, is there any way Adalgrim could as well?"

He pulled away enough to look at her and she saw the answer in his eyes before he spoke. "I'm afraid not, my dear. You will follow after him one day, but he can no longer follow you."

Bilba took a shaky breath and nodded, biting her lip as her vision blurred. "I thought that would be your answer," she whispered. She hugged him again, taking gratitude in what she did have. "I'm glad you're back, Gandalf. I missed you."

"I missed you as well," he said, returning the hug. Bilba thought she heard the slightest waver in his voice but when she pulled away his eyes were as dry as ever. She gave him a look that told him she didn't buy his act for a moment and then went to greet the rest of the Fellowship. 

Once that was done, she focused on Fili again. "Where is it?"

He nodded a few yards away to where a large rock lay on the ground. "Under that. Glorfindel stayed to make sure no one else tried to take it."

"Okay." Bilba sent another look back toward the tower. "What did happen to Saruman? Is he still alive?"

"He is," Gandalf said. "He has locked himself away and is no longer a threat to anyone. The Ents will guard him until my return."

"Where are you going?" Bilba asked. Realization struck and she sucked in a sharp gasp. "The army."

Gandalf nodded grimly. "It marches on Rohan and will not stop simply because its master no longer has power."

"You think you can stop them?" Bilba asked. "An army? By yourself?" A water cooled breeze washed over her as she spoke and she shivered as it hit her wet clothing. Kili stepped forward, pulling his coat off to wrap around her and she smiled at him in thanks, pulling the leather close. 

"He won't be alone," Glorfindel said. "I'm going with him."

Oh, Bilba thought, well that just made all the difference then, didn't it? Some of her thought process must have shown on her face judging by Gandalf's amused expression. 

"Thengel has chosen to take his people to Helm's Deep against my advice," Gandalf said, his expression darkening. "His only hope now will be if his own army arrives in time to save him."

"Which they won't," Glorfindel said, "unless we leave immediately to go find them."

Bilba frowned. "Why wasn't his army already with him?" she looked at Thorin in confusion. "Is that normal? To not have your army nearby?"

"The circumstances are not normal," Gandalf cut in, before Thorin could answer. "I would explain them to you if I had the time." He sighed suddenly and, for a moment, his expression changed. In that instant he looked old, ancient even, the light in his eyes dimming with sorrow. 

"You must move on as well," he said, locking eyes with her, "and into dangers far greater than I will face."

Bilba hesitated. Things were moving fast but, then, the world had not slowed down or stopped simply because she'd been temporarily locked up. Sauron was still on the move, an army marched on Rohan and the rest of the Fellowship had lost valuable time in coming to save her. In the past she might not have cared, or simply overlooked it in her quest, or outright demand, that she be told everything, and have the answer to every question she asked. 

Now she gave a quiet nod and asked only one. "Will we meet again, do you think?"

Gandalf knelt again and reached out to take her hands in his. "I do not know, dear Bilba. It is my hope."

Bilba nodded and sucked in a shaky breath as her eyes welled and tears spilled unbidden down her cheeks. "Mine as well," she managed to get out and forced a smile as he hugged her and then stood again. Next came Glorfindel who said nothing but gave her a fierce embrace. 

Then he and Gandalf were gone again, as quickly as they had come, and the Fellowship that had once been comprised of nine was down to only seven. 

Or at least she thought it was until she saw the expressions on the faces of Legolas and Beorn. 

"You want to stay," she said, before they could speak. 

"Not forever," Legolas said. "We simply wish to make sure things are safe here, with the Ents and Saruman. Then we may follow in Gandalf's steps and see what aid we may offer to Rohan."

"The wizard did not want to worry you," Beorn said, coming forward. "He spoke of a second army readying itself from Mordor, intended for Gondor. If they are attacked, they will need the aid of Rohan."

"Which they won't get if Rohan is under attack or outright defeated," Bilba said. She nodded, clutching her hands in front of her until her knuckles were white. "Thank you for telling me." She felt a brief flash of annoyance at Gandalf for treating her like a child that needed to be protected but it faded quickly. There was no time left anymore for grudges and she found she no longer had the strength to carry them besides. She swallowed, trying to ignore how hard it suddenly was to breathe as still more of her friends left her side. "Would you mind, if possible, looking after Adalgrim for me?"

"Of course," Legolas said, "and I'm choosing to ignore what Gandalf said." He came forward to hug her, followed by Beorn. "We will meet again. I'm sure of it."

Bilba gave a shaky nod, her fingers stiff as she hugged them both. They, and Treebeard, moved away to talk and then her Fellowship was down to five. 

Her eyes went to Thorin for a brief second and then she turned her back and forced herself to walk confidently to where the ring lay hidden. She knelt and uncovered it quickly, like pulling a bandage off a healing wound. 

She'd forgotten how innocuous it looked, a small bundle with the most powerful, and evil, artifact wrapped up inside. It took all her will power to pick the thing up and slide it into a pocket inside her jacket. 

As she stood up she could have sworn the thing had grown heavier, the weight dragging at her and putting her just a little off balance as she swayed into an upright position. 

She turned, and found herself facing Aragorn, Thorin, Fili and Kili. 

"Are you going to leave me as well?" she asked. She meant it to sound funny, lighthearted even, but was unable to hide the note of true fear in her voice when the words came out. 

Thorin took her hands in his and raised them both to his lips to press a light kiss to her knuckles. "I swear on my life I'll never leave you," he said solemnly. "Not to the very end."

"I already promised to stay with you," Kili said next. "I don't intend to break that promise."

Aragorn and Fili added their own vows in as well and Bilba gave a shaky nod, lifting one hand to wipe at her face. "What are we going to do now?"

"Continue," Thorin said without fanfare. "The path we're on now will take us to Gondor. From there we can find out way into Mordor."

"Gondor?" Bilba asked. "Isn't that the place an army is headed?"

"It's not there yet," Thorin said, "and it's the quickest path without wasting time backtracking." He hesitated. "You are the Ringbearer, however. If you would rather take another path--"

"I trust you," Bilba said at once. "We'll go where you say."

"In that case," Thorin said, "we should head out. We can make some good headway before we'll need to settle down for a meal."

Bilba agreed and they had her sit down while they went to raid Saruman's storehouses for supplies. When they returned Thorin took her by one hand, Kili by the other, and pulled her to her feet. 

And then...they left. 

A Fellowship of Nine now a Fellowship of Five, splintered off in all directions, or gone beyond her reach forever. 

As they headed out and the tower grew smaller behind them, Bilba couldn't help but worry for the future ahead and how much smaller the Fellowship could end up getting. 

She'd made the decision that she didn't want to go to Mordor alone. 

Now she hoped the decision would still be hers to make. 

 


	24. Chapter 24

The journey to Gondor was completed largely in silence.

There was simply too much at stake for witty banter or casual conversation and no one needed to be reminded of what they already knew.

The world had not stopped moving simply because Bilba had been locked up inside a tower.

An army marched on Rohan, Sauron's power increased daily, their Fellowship was irrevocably broken...and Adalgrim was dead.

It was that final one that insistently gnawed at Bilba. Already acquainted with grief, Bilba would have thought she'd know how to deal with it. She'd expected to be able to set it aside and focus on the bigger picture, that sort of thing.

But grief had a way of ignoring logic, reordering priorities and patently refusing to be ignored. It crept up like the rising tide, waiting for a single misstep to drag the unsuspecting under its dark waters.

She might as well have never experienced it at all.  

The pain caught her at the most random moments. Seeing an interesting bird or plant and turning to point it out to Adalgrim, only to realize he wasn't there. Expecting him to come walking over at mealtime and plop down beside her with a melodramatic sigh and a new list of why nature was out to get him, only to realize he never would again.

Trying to come to terms with the fact that his death was permanent and she was never going to see him again...

The ring made it a thousand times worse. She knew, rationally, that Adalgrim had made his own choice and that blame for his death could be placed squarely at Saruman's feet, but no amount of rational thought stopped the whispers. They were insidious, always at the back of her mind, bringing up everything she already knew. If she'd never gone on the quest, never found the ring, never gone back to the Shire, and on and on and on. She got it, the guilt eating at her as badly as the grief, and the thought of eventually having to face Priscilla and Seth, and Adalgrim's wife and children was near on debilitating.

The ring played its strongest hand a few days into their trek when, far off at the base of the distant mountain chain, they caught sight of great plumes of black smoke clawing into the sky like a monster clambering from its grave. Bilba knew what was over there, Helm's Deep and what could very well turn out to be Rohan's final stand. As Bilba stared at it, the ring pulled out all the stops and the strongest wave of grief and guilt she'd ever felt washed over her. She stopped dead in her tracks, shaking, eyes fixed on that black plume. Dimly she wondered if the ring was trying to somehow freeze her in the hopes she might draw attention from the army, in spite of the fact that orcs were days, and leagues, away from them.

If that were the case it meant the ring, while effective, was also inherently stupid.  

Before she could follow that mildly irrational train of thought any further, arms slid around her and then Thorin was sweeping her up into his arms. He started walking again without comment and Bilba settled in as best she could against him, waiting for the ring to release her.

It did, eventually, its power potent but not lasting, and she sighed in relief as the grief and corresponding guilt settled back into a dull ache that only hurt when she worried at it.

"I'm alright now," she managed to murmur to Thorin. "You can put me down."

"Perhaps I just like carrying you," Thorin replied casually.

Bilba sighed and resisted rolling her eyes. She had to admit Thorin was quite comfortable, but her pride demanded she walk on her own two feet as much as possible. She pulled away from him and wiggled until he sighed in exasperation and set her down.

Decidedly ignoring Fili, Kili and Aragorn, who were ranged behind her and politely not bringing up her using the King of Erebor as a pack mule, Bilba crossed her arms and glared at the ground. "Have I mentioned how much I hate the damn ring?"

"A few times," Thorin chuckled. "I sincerely hope you're not planning on teaching any of that language to our sons."

"Don't tell me how to raise my sons," Bilba said in mock anger.

"Oh, they're _your_ sons now," Thorin said dryly. "Strange, I have a distinct memory of being at least partly responsible for them."

Bilba felt her face go red hot and she cast a quick glance over her shoulders to see the other three looking at various aspects of the landscape with a fascination woefully unworthy of the plains, rolling hills and cloudless blue sky they'd been traveling through for the past several days. A pile of rocks in the distance caught her eye and she absently conceded nature's rather lackadaisical attempt to add some variety to the landscape. "Watch it, Durin," she grumbled, "or I'll ensure they both grow up and fall in love with elves."

Thorin snorted. "Never, not when they'll have a mountain full of dwarven women falling at their feet." At her confused look, he smirked. "Perks of royalty."

 "Unbelievable," Bilba muttered, choosing to politely not point out the fact that she was fully aware of just how rare dwarven women were which meant it was very unlikely Thorin's assertion had ever, in fact, taken place. "That's it, I'm raising them in Rivendell."

"It's not so bad," Thorin said dryly. "I turned out all right." At her incredulous look he sighed and said, "Fine, the boys turned out all right then."

"The boys were raised in Ered Luin," Bilba pointed out. "You aren't helping your case."

As she spoke, Bilba twisted around to look back in the direction of the smoke. It still drifted lazily skyward in thick plumes. Around her, Bilba could hear nothing but the rustle of the breeze through the grass and the occasional chirrup of a confused bird wondering where all the trees had gone. It was a stark contrast when looking at that smoke, and imagining the sort of things happening under it. The sharp tang of blood entered her nostrils while the clang of steel and the cries of the wounded rang in her ears. She sucked in a harsh breath, tightening her arms around her chest as a wave of cold washed over her. Damn ring. She hoped Gandalf and Glorfindel and the people of Rohan were okay. She hoped they were winning. She shivered and mentally offered up a prayer to any of the Valar who might be listening to watch over them and bring them victory. She didn't want to imagine what would happen if Rohan fell and there was one kingdom less to fight against Sauron.

Thorin slid an arm around her shoulders and firmly pulled her back around, away from the smoke. "The ring goes for the path of least resistance. It looks for cracks already there, and you have plenty of them."

Bilba frowned and raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you suggesting I'm cracked, Oakenshield?"

He outright laughed. "No more than any of the rest of us, Ghivashel."

The word slipped out without him seeming to realize it but Bilba heard it loud and clear and automatically tensed at the title. He'd called her that a handful of times before, before she'd known she was pregnant, before Gold Sickness and a monstrous battle and a torturous journey home that had felt like it lasted forever. Back during a time when she hadn't doubted his love for her, or hers for him.

Now, she didn't know what she felt.

If she were being honest with herself, it didn't really matter what she felt. It didn't change the fact that she'd die _centuries_ before he did and that in choosing him she was consigning him to a lifetime of being alone. Her presence in his life would be little more than a blip in time, an afterthought, when compared to the years he'd already lived and those he had left.

When it came to her sons, she had little choice in the matter. She hadn't given it any thought when she'd gotten pregnant, hadn't even thought as far as realizing she _could_ get pregnant. Her sons would find themselves without a mother before they'd reached adulthood, assuming she survived Mordor. It was an experience she wouldn't wish on anyone, yet couldn't spare them from.

Thorin, she could spare. He could go on, perhaps, and meet someone else and her sons could have a mother again, possibly even one not fated to die before they'd grown.

She could do that, but only if she did it soon, before she gave in and acknowledged the feeling slowing and insistently sprouting from something she'd thought well and truly dead.

Thorin shifted, sensing her sudden tension, and dropped his arm from around her shoulders. Bilba chewed on her lower lip a moment before allowing her steps to slow, dropping her back until she was between Fili and Kili. It was the wrong time anyway to make a decision either way, she convinced herself firmly. They were on a quest to save the world, anything else was...well, it just wasn't the time for it.

Fili grinned at her. He and Thorin still weren't really talking but Fili seemed to forget it at times, turning to speak to the other dwarf before catching himself or listening to a story around the campfire at night before remembering he was supposed to be ignoring his uncle.

"Don't grin at me like that," Bilba groused. "You and Thorin need to sit down and talk already. You're starting to annoy me."

"You're just annoyed in general," Fili said dryly. "I'll talk to him eventually."

"Why not now?" Bilba gestured toward the empty landscape around them. "We have nothing but time on our hands."

He grimaced and didn't answer. On Bilba's other side, Kili leaned forward to look around her, speaking to Bilba but looking at his brother. "It's his pride. He doesn't like it that Thorin didn't listen to him and now he can't bring himself to let it go."

"That's not it," Fili growled and Kili rolled his eyes in response.

"It's a part of it."

"So what?" Bilba asked. "You want him to apologize to you?"

"He could at least acknowledge it," Fili muttered. "Instead, he acts like nothing ever happened."

"That's not true," Bilba countered. "He marched halfway across Middle Earth and indentured himself to me."

"Yes," Fili agreed darkly. "To you."

Bilba frowned up at him. Then she set her jaw and started to step forward, back toward where Thorin was eating up ground in his haste to get them as far from an army of orcs as possible.

Before she could get anywhere, Fili hooked an arm around her waist and tugged her back to his side. "Leave it, Bilba."

"But--" Bilba started to say, only to have Kili cut in.

"Really." He smiled at her in what he probably hoped was a kind smile but one that held a little too much resignation to really make it work. "You can't fix everything."

"I could fix this," Bilba grumbled, but obediently subsided. If both were telling her the same thing then she had no right to go against them, no matter how much she might want too.

Suddenly annoyed at the lot of them, she pulled free of Fili's arm and went to walk next to Aragorn who was bringing up the rear of the party. He gave her a delighted smile as she fell in beside him and she grinned back.

"Thought I'd spend some time with the only one in this party possessing any sense."

He laughed. "What about yourself?"

Bilba snorted, eyes going back to the three Durins she'd chosen to throw her lot in with and the weight of the ring she really should have left alone when she'd found it. "Please, I possess the least sense of anyone here."

That earned her another laugh and then the two of them settled back into companionable silence once again.

And all the while, smoke continued to billow in the sky behind them.

***

It was a long and tedious journey. The landscape was unchanging, mountains on the one side and river on the other, with nothing but rocks and dirt in-between. It gave the illusion that they weren't moving, simply walking in place, and there were times Bilba would grab the hand of whoever was nearest to her simply to remind herself that she wasn't in some sort of limbo but was actually alive, and traveling.

The smoke stayed with them a long time, slowing growing smaller behind them until it was little more than a smudge in the far distance. Bilba found her eyes drawn to it again and again, and even after they'd finally left it behind altogether she still found herself looking back and trying to see it.

They reached the Snowbourn and crossed it, leaving the Westfold behind and entering the Eastfold. After that it was more long days of mindless travel followed by anxiety-ridden nights. There was nowhere to hide or take shelter so they were forced to camp in the open, unable to light fires for fear of who, or what, might see it. The nights were cold and Bilba didn't hesitate to curl up next to the warmest body she could find, usually Thorin, in her quest to not freeze to death. He, Fili, Kili and Aragorn took shifts through the nights watching for any approaching threats. Bilba had offered to take her own turn but they insisted carrying the ring was enough of a burden for her without throwing in fatigue.

The ring became suspiciously quiet once they crossed the river. She saw no signs of it affecting the Durins or Aragorn and it seemed almost lazy in its attempts to go after her. She still had bouts of grief over Adalgrim, and her dreams were haunted by past battles and the looming visages of grotesque trolls. Thorin was right, she had many a crack for the ring to attack her through and she almost wondered if it wasn't bored simply because she was so easy a target.

She liked to think it wasn't that, but rather that she'd already been through so much and was able to bear it. She'd borne it already, for years before the ring had been around or started attacking her, and she knew she could bear it now. She had incentive to bear it, in the form of two little boys waiting for her back in the Shire. She wanted to get back to them if she could. If she couldn't, then it damn well wasn't going to be because the ring had pushed her to destroy herself.

And so they continued, eventually reaching the Mering Stream and the border between Rohan and Gondor. It was here that the landscape finally changed, giving way to the Firien Wood. Past that she knew they would eventually reach the Druadan Forest and then, finally, Minas Tirith.

They still had a way to go after crossing the river but just the knowledge that they'd finally left Rohan for Gondor made her feel as if they'd made progress. She threw her arms around Kili, who was closest, and he proceeded to pick her up and spin her in a circle, suggesting she wasn't the only one happy about the prospect of an end to their journey.

After that, their steps picked up. With the presence of the woods they were able to take some cover, both during the day and at night, which eased their anxiety considerably.

It was a surprisingly anticlimactic to leave the tree line and find themselves facing Minas Tirith. Bilba drew up with a sharp gasp, eyes going wide. She'd heard plenty about the fabled white city but now realized the stories didn't do it justice. She gaped, eyes slowly tracking up the multiple levels to the citadel. A huge platform, that she was sure had a fancy sounding name though what it would be utterly escaped her, jutted out from the top level while its base cut through the levels below it.

Without thinking, Bilba's eyes wandered past the city, and immediately her spirits came crashing down. There, in the distance were the dark mountains that made up the boundary of Mordor. Past them the sky over the land was dark and moody and Bilba swore she could almost feel ice swarming through her veins, a prelude to what she would have to endure once she entered that place.

"One step at a time," Thorin's voice said in her ear and she flinched in surprise as his hand took hers. He hesitated as she looked up at him, only to relax as she curled her fingers with his and returned the grip.

They started toward the Great Gate, massive from a distance and outright intimidating up close. It was made of thick iron and wood and was patrolled by guards so still they may as well have been cut from stone.

As their group approached, passing from the grass onto the stone of the main road, Bilba found herself dropping back, letting go of Thorin's hand to walk behind him and in front of Fili. She'd never been to a city like this before and while she certainly wanted to see it, the fact was it was more than a little intimidating.

Not to mention the other concern.

"What are we going to tell them?" she asked out loud, addressing no one in particular. "We can't just walk in and announce..." she hesitated, noting how close the guards were as well as the fact they weren't exactly alone on the road. Minas Tirith was a major city and there was already a line of people ahead of them waiting for admittance with more coming behind. "You know," she finished finally, lamely.

"Relax," Thorin said, smirking. "I've got it covered."

"That worries me," Bilba said immediately.

Thorin ignored her. He straightened, shoulders going back and head coming up. As he did, Fili and Kili almost subconsciously dropped into different positions, just behind Thorin's shoulders with Kili on the left and Fili on the right. They matched his stature, heads up, backs straight and hands resting lightly on the hilt of their swords.

They reached the end of the line and Thorin proceeded to begin marching right past it, up toward the front.

"Thorin," Bilba hissed. "There's a line! We can't just ignore it."

"I don't think kings really stand in lines," Aragorn said quietly from behind her. He put a hand lightly on her back and Bilba scowled, face heating as she and Aragorn followed. She hated being the center of attention and she could hear the grumble of those in line and feel their eyes on her and the others.

They made it to the front gates just a few steps behind Thorin. One of the guards gave him a dismissive look. "The back of the line is there," he said, pointing with one finger down the row of people. "You'll have to wait your turn."

If possible, Thorin straightened further and suddenly he looked every bit the royal despite the weeks and weeks worth of travel grime covering him. Bilba highly doubted standing straighter would help her in the slightest and mentally cursed royalty and their stupid abilities. Fili and Kili, she noted, looked better too, which was patently unfair.

"I demand to speak to the Steward of Gondor," Thorin said, voice flat.

The guard laughed. "On whose authority?"

"On the authority of the King of Erebor," Thorin said, dark amusement in his voice. As he spoke he held his hand up, displaying the ring he always wore. "I assume your Steward has trained you to recognize the royal seals of the various kingdoms?"

The man, thin and young looking with dark hair he clearly took pride in, hesitated. "And how do I know that's real?" he said finally. "Anyone could have faked it."

"Then go find someone who attended the coronation," Thorin practically barked, "or do you really want to risk offending Erebor by refusing her king entry?"

And he called her bossy, Bilba thought dryly. She crossed her arms and frowned at the dwarf, already knowing what was coming next and wondering how Thorin planned to handle it. As she'd already said, telling anyone and everyone about their mission was probably not the best idea but, on the other hand, if they wanted to see the Steward...

"What should I state is your business?" the guard asked and Bilba sighed, wishing that, just once, the world would surprise her and not insist on making everything harder than it needed to be. She looked to Thorin again, and felt her eyes widen at the sudden glint in his.

With a flourish, he spun and looked at Aragorn who, to that point, had been gazing up at the city in awe.

Oh, no, Bilba thought, he wouldn't.

"The best business of all," Thorin stated grandly, sweeping an arm out to indicate Aragorn. "I have brought you Aragorn, son of Arathorn," here he turned back to face the guard and Bilba shut her eyes, mentally praying he would stop and simultaneously hoping that maybe, just maybe they wouldn't recognize the names.

She heard Aragorn make a strangled sound behind her and tried to mentally assure him. Thorin _wouldn't._

Would he?

"The rightful heir to the throne of Gondor." She could literally hear the smugness radiating from Thorin's voice.

Bilba groaned.

It turned out Thorin would.


	25. Chapter 25

"What were you thinking?" Bilba demanded trying, somewhat successfully, to keep her voice down.

Thorin raised an eyebrow from where he was lounging on a couch as if he hadn't just dropped earth shattering news on Gondor's Steward as easily as one might report the weather. "I was thinking to restore a fellow exiled king to his throne."

Bilba huffed in the sort of exasperation only Thorin seemed to be able to elicit. After some fumbling and quick requests for people with more authority at the gates, it had been determined that the king of Erebor had, in fact, shown up unannounced without an entourage.

A move Bilba was sure would get him labeled as eccentric, which probably wouldn't be all that big of a problem in the end since it was true.

They'd been ushered in with much kowtowing and genuflecting as if Thorin's actions were somehow Gondor's fault, and shown to private chambers to clean up. Bilba had been able to take the first real bath she'd had in months and had stayed in the tub until it was quite possible she'd turned part fish.

After, she'd gone into the main room to find her clothing cleaned and mended, sans the ring, Thorin's braided bracelet and Adalgrim's watch, all of which she'd kept with her. She'd dressed, replaced her belongings in their various pockets, and opened her door to find an attendant waiting to show her to the room they were now in. It was huge and ornately decorated, sporting a wide balcony that gave an exceptional view of the city and surrounding landscape. The room was located on the topmost tier of the city, in an area Bilba was sure they never would have seen without Thorin's presence.

She was fairly sure the couch said dwarf was currently sprawled in cost more than Bag End but Thorin appeared utterly at ease. Fili and Kili were at a far window while Aragorn was sitting on the edge of a nearby table. Probably not quite the proper use of a table but, seeing as how he was the rightful heir to Gondor, Bilba figured he could do as he wished.

"And what if the fellow exile didn't _want_ to be restored to his throne?" she asked through gritted teeth. She didn't know why she bothered. Once Thorin had it in his head that a certain route was correct it was nearly impossible to convince him otherwise.

Thorin gave her a disgusted look, though Bilba had a sense it wasn't directed at her specifically. "Then he wouldn't deserve to be king." He shifted, leaning forward and clasping his hands together between his knees. "I spent a century watching my people starve, knowing they were my responsibility."

"It wasn't your fault," Bilba said in surprise. She sank down on the couch beside him and lightly put a hand on his forearm. She could feel the knots of muscles under her fingers, as tight as the wire Farmer Maggot used to try and keep the foxes out of his henhouse. Her fingers didn't reach the edges of his arm and it struck her suddenly how easily she'd sat beside him, despite his size and current mood. When was it exactly, she wondered, that she'd moved from terror of him to unquestioning faith?

"It was," Thorin responded simply. "I was their king, after the failure of my father and grandfather."

"You didn't ask for it," Bilba cut in but he shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. I was born to it, chosen by Mahal to keep his children safe. It may not have been my choice, but it was my responsibility. A king does not rule over dust and cold rock. Erebor is our home, but my kingdom has always been her people. A king who refuses to take responsibility for that, who chooses to abandon them, doesn’t deserve the throne the Valar have blessed him with."

Or cursed them with, Bilba thought, thinking over her history and what she knew to be the fate of many of Middle Earth's royalty. She frowned and then, with a stab of guilt, decided she might give seeing things from his perspective a chance every now and again. After a moment, she sighed and dropped her eyes, shoulders slumping slightly. "I don't know how you put up with me sometimes."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "I often wonder how you put up with me but not the opposite. What are you talking about?"

"I forget sometimes," Bilba said, studying where her hand rested on his arm, "how much experience you have. If I were you, I'm not sure how happy I'd be with being lectured by someone a fraction of my age, and who's barely been away from her home."

"Not sure how well that last one applies to you anymore," Thorin said dryly, nudging her shoulder with his. He smirked. "As for the first, don't sell yourself short. You're not _always_ wrong."

Bilba frowned, but then rolled her eyes at the glint of humor in his. She flopped back, matching his position. His weight caused the couch to dip under him and it naturally rolled her body so she was resting against him. He was quite comfortable, and she was tired, so she left it alone, choosing to simply drop the head against his shoulder.

Her eyes went toward Aragorn, who was idly watching Fili and Kili discuss whether or not the window would make a good spot for archery in case of an attack. "So," she said slowly, "if that's the case, how did you know Aragorn even wanted to be king? Gondor isn't exactly being held by a dragon the way Erebor was. Why haven't they come to claim their throne before?"

"They had no sponsor," Thorin explained. At her questioning look, he shrugged. "I spoke to him on the road several times. Anyone can claim to be the rightful heir of Gondor. He has the ring of Barahir, an heirloom of Numenor; but it's been recorded as lost for centuries. Anyone could have it and claim the lineage it represents. The only way to gain an audience, and any credibility--"

"Would be if someone with established credibility sponsored you," Bilba said, understanding dawning. "You really were trying to help him."

"And get us an audience with the Steward," Thorin admitted easily. "It just so happened the two desires happened to be in harmony." He sighed. "You are right to be annoyed, however. I should have spoken to him first about what I planned to do. I got ahead of myself."

"Little bit," Bilba agreed.

Thorin pulled away from her to stand up and Bilba tried not to feel petulant about losing what had been a very comfortable position. "Come on," he said, holding a hand out to her. "I'll apologize."

"Don't know why I have to get up when you're the one apologizing," Bilba muttered, but let him grab her hand and pull her to her feet.

Thorin went over to Aragorn and Bilba trailed along after him.

"I should have consulted you," Thorin said without preamble. "I apologize."

Aragorn's eyes flicked away from the window. "It's all right," he said simply. He frowned. "I wasn't expecting it this way. I always thought my father--" His voice trailed off and Bilba caught a brief glimpse of grief in his eyes. It occurred to her that he'd never really been given a chance to handle his father's death. He'd found out in Rivendell and then immediately been thrown into the quest. After that it had been a long series of attacks by Ringwraith and other foul things or the simple act of trying to survive. Now this was added to it and she wondered when he would ever have a chance to deal with it.

Then there was the fact he was so young for a human and so much had been dropped on his shoulders, all at once.

"You aren't alone you know," she blurted out. "We're all here for you, and Thorin will be more than happy to help you with whatever you need." She shot a glare at the dwarf in question as she spoke and he gave her an amused look in return.

"Of course."

"I doubt they'll just put me on the throne," Aragorn said dryly. "It would be irresponsible, especially at a time like this."

"Do you think Gondor is threatened?" Bilba asked with concern.

"It's the kingdom that stands between Mordor and the rest of Middle Earth," Aragorn reasoned. "I'd be surprised if it wasn't."

He had a point, Bilba thought. Saruman had sent an entire army to Rohan, would Sauron do any less when it came to Gondor?

A sudden knock came on the door and they turned as it opened to admit a tall, well-built human with silver streaked, black hair. He was dressed in rich looking regalia with various cords and colors she was sure meant something about his rank but she didn't know enough about Gondor to recognize them.

The man came to a stop in front of Thorin and bowed low. "Your Majesty, well met. I am Ecthelion, son of Turgin. I offer apologies on behalf of my father. He has been ill and unable to receive guests."

"My apologies for the unexpected arrival," Thorin responded formally. As he spoke, Fili and Kili had come up to stand on either side of him again. "Allow me to introduce my companions." Bilba expected him to start with Aragorn but, to her surprise, he turned to her first. "May I introduce Bilba Baggins of the Shire, my nephews Fili and Kili Durin and, then, of course Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

"Ah, yes," Ecthelion said, his voice and face expressionless. "The one claiming to be the heir." Before Thorin could say anything, the man seemed to realize what he'd said might not have been the most diplomatic, and he quickly added, "I apologize if I seem rude, your Highness. It's just that there has been more than one claimant to the throne in the past. If all were to be believed, we'd have well over a hundred or more heirs all clamoring for a place on Gondor's empty throne."

"I understand," Thorin said calmly. "I do think that you'll find this one speaks the truth, however."

"In that case," Ecthelion responded, "I suppose you wouldn't mind being questioned on the matter, and asked to provide proof." He addressed the words to Aragorn, whose eyes widened in surprise at the sudden address, before his face quickly smoothed and he nodded.

"Of course."

His words were suddenly modulated and formal, which made sense after Bilba thought about it. Aragorn had always known who he was. Even if he'd never sat on a throne in his life, surely his family would have made sure he had at least the ability to look and sound like a king.

Ecthelion nodded at her. "My Lady, with your leave, I'd like to speak to them in private." His eyes flickered toward Thorin. "I'm assuming you would wish to be present as well, your Majesty."

"I would," Thorin agreed. "My nephews will wait as well."

"Of course," Fili said, moving closer to Bilba. "Bilba would get bored otherwise."

Bilba nodded without comment, moving closer to Fili as an unsettling thought occurred to her. She wrapped an arm around his waist and settled against his side as Thorin, Aragorn and Ecthelion left, shutting the door behind him. She wondered if Thorin would tell Ecthelion the truth about why they were there or try to spin some other reason. One the one hand, telling a veritable stranger that they were carrying the one ring while, in effect, at his mercy was probably not the wisest decision. On the other hand, Gandalf hadn't exactly told them how he expected them to get into Mordor which meant Gondor, the expert on the dark land, was their best chance and she couldn't see them volunteering the information without knowing the reason why.

"What's wrong?" Kili asked. "You seemed upset all of the sudden."

Bilba blinked, pulling out of her thoughts and focusing on him. "It just occurred to me," she said, her stomach clenching inside her, "that I'm going to lose another member of the Fellowship." She forced a smile she knew didn't fool anyone. "I doubt Aragorn will be continuing on with us, after they verify who he is."

From the look on his face, it was clear Kili hadn't considered it. "True enough."

Fili tightened his grip on her. "You'll still have us. That's good enough, isn't it?"

There was the slightest edge to his voice and Bilba gave him a reassuring smile. "Of course, you are. I was just thinking how I seem to be losing members the closer I get to Mordor." She grimaced, wrapping her arms around her waist as the ring dragged at her from inside the pocket where she kept it. She hadn't really mentioned the weight to anyone, not sure it wasn't a trick of her mind at first and later, figuring they had larger things to worry about. It seemed to increase with every step she took, however, and she held a lingering fear it would be so heavy by the time she reached Mount Doom that she wouldn't be able to carry it. "I was told to take it alone, and I chose not to. Now I wonder if the choice is being made for me, whether I want it or not."

"It's not," Fili said with certainty. "We aren't going to leave you."

Bilba didn't answer. No one had planned to leave her. Her quest wasn't the only priority out there, it wouldn't matter if she destroyed the ring if all Middle Earth fell to pieces in the meantime. And, Adalgrim...well.

"Why don't we take a tour?" Kili said suddenly. "I'm sure they've got someone designated to show visiting dignitaries around? What do you say we track them down and go see the city?"

"Shouldn't we wait for Thorin and Aragorn?" Bilba asked. She knew full well he was trying to distract her but couldn't deny the thought of seeing the city, featured so prominently throughout history, was enticing.

"It's politics," Fili said dryly, "we'll be lucky if we see them back again today. Come on," he said, lightly tugging on her, "let's go have some fun. We deserve it, I think."

And who knows when they'd have it again. "Okay," Bilba said, mood lifting just a little. "Let's do it."

The boys nodded, grabbing her hands and almost dragging her to the door in their excitement and Bilba did the best she could to quell that fear that, were she to let go of either of them, they'd disappear.

It wasn't easy, but she did try.

***

Fili was deeply grateful that his uncle hadn't insisted on him going to the meeting with Ecthelion. It had been nearly a week, his uncle and Aragorn barely present for dinner in the evening before retiring just to get up ridiculously early again and start over.

Fili had no idea what they were even talking about. It seemed a simple thing to him to prove whether Aragorn was the heir to the throne and certainly not something that should take a week.

The only thing he could think was that Uncle had told them about the ring and was attempting, with Ecthelion, to figure out a course of action for dealing with it. He didn't know if Uncle had told them that the ring was actually _there_ but, judging by the lack of interest in Bilba, he was guessing not. That or his uncle had just said he was the bearer for it. Even if someone in authority decided they wanted it, they would think twice before challenging Thorin and risking an incident between Gondor and Erebor.

Personally, he couldn't understand anyone wanting the thing. It made his skin crawl just being near it and he knew it was affecting Bilba more than she let on. She seemed perpetually tired now, her skin paler and bags under her eyes.  She walked as if a physical weight lay on her and, often, he would see a shadow pass over her eyes as if the sun itself was shying away from her burden.

He'd done the best he could to help her through it, even going so far as to promise to finally speak to his uncle, if the other ever got out of talks that was. He could admit his anger had cooled as their quest had continued but the betrayal, and lack of trust, still stung. His uncle had raised him to be king one day, and then dismissed him like a child when Fili had tried to exercise authority.

It had been humiliating, and shaken him in a way he wasn't ready to admit out loud. What good would he be as king if his own uncle didn't trust in his counsel?

He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to study the cloudless blue sky overhead. It had been easy, the past week, to almost forget the shadow that hung over Middle Earth. There had been no word from Rohan, or the riders sent from Gondor to assess the situation, knowing it was far too late to offer aid. No word from Gandalf or Glorfindel or any other member of the fellowship.

No word, and an almost eerie quiet from Mordor. Fili had found out on the second day that orcs from the Black Land had been pushing out of late, into Osgiliath. The military garrison stationed there had been involved in many a skirmish, trying to push the orcs back before they were entirely overrun. The heavy presence of the creatures didn't bode well for any attempt to get inside Mordor but Fili was doing his best not to think about it. This really would probably be their last few moments of comfort for a long time, if not forever, and he wanted to make the most of it.

Currently, the three of them were on a small, private terrace overlooking the plains. They'd taken lunch there, the remnants still spread out over the small, lattice work table. The chairs matched it in design, and were not the most comfortable, but Fili could overlook it in light of being comfortably full and feeling the warmth of the midday sun beating down on him. Kili was seated against the wall, carving a block of wood, while Bilba had found a book from the royal library and was reading it against another wall. Clearly, they were less willing to endure the chairs than he was.

Fili suppressed a yawn and leaned his head back, eyes closing as he gave into the natural fatigue he always felt after a big meal.

He was just about to drift off when the sound of the door slamming open in the antechamber brought him to full awareness, and out of his seat. Kili stood as well, while Bilba looked up from her book, startled. Instinctively, Kili and Fili both moved to put themselves between her and whatever was coming.

A babble of excited voices sounded and then, to the surprise of all three of them, Dwalin came striding out onto the terrace. He looked awful, Fili noted, even as his mind struggled to accept that, yes, indeed, it was Dwalin standing there. He was haggard, covered in dirt and grime and, possibly most shocking of all, his beard was unkempt. Behind him were several officials and servants, all waving their hands as if Dwalin's tracking mud across the rugs was paramount to murder.

"Dwalin?" Kili asked, eyes wide in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Searching for you," Dwalin said sharply. "I left almost immediately after getting back to Erebor, and have been trying to track you lot down ever since. I need to see Thorin, now."

"Why?" Fili asked, eyes narrowed.

Dwalin turned to him and Fili suddenly knew he, without a doubt, did not want to hear what the other dwarf was about to say.

"Because he needs to return to Erebor, at once." He took a breath, hands clenching in and out of fists at his sides.

Behind them, Fili heard Bilba suck in a harsh breath and he remembered what she'd said about fearing fate was stripping her companions away.

Dwalin didn't seem to hear, attention still focused on Fili. "Thorin," he repeated. "Now, Fili. There's an army preparing to march on the mountain. Again."

 


	26. Chapter 26

Fili imagined the last time his uncle had looked so stunned had probably been after finding out he had twin sons.

Currently, his uncle was seated across from Dwalin who had just finished laying out what he'd already told the rest of them, that an army was marching on Erebor, again. Aragorn and Ecthelion stood nearby as well, having been with Thorin when Dwalin found him.

At least it wasn't the orcs this time, for whatever that was worth. According to Dwalin, the army was from the East, comprised of Men loyal to Sauron. The fact he was sending an army of men, when he had legions of orcs at his disposal, raised a disturbing question but not one they had time to contemplate.

The simple fact was that an army was marching on a kingdom still in the process of recovering from the last time they had been attacked. Granted, restoration in both Erebor and Dale had come a long way but the focus, as Fili understood it, had been immediate survival. Erebor had been reclaimed, and Lake-town destroyed, just as winter had begun to set in. Sealing up the mountain and repairing buildings in Dale had been imperative, followed by stockpiling supplies for when the cold truly hit

The thought of being attacked _again_ had never occurred to them.

It was enough to make Fili wonder if perhaps the dwarves were simply not meant to hold Erebor. Dwalin said Dain was still present, along with his army, but morale was lagging as people already exhausted by battle, travel and the struggle of repairing the kingdom found themselves facing yet another threat. Many were also coming from the harsh conditions of the Blue Mountains, or the Master-induced poverty of Lake-town. They simply had no energy left with which to fight. It had been his mother who had suggested bringing Thorin back, hoping the sight of the king of Erebor on his throne might be enough to spur the mountain to battle.

"Dain sent rams," Dwalin was saying to Thorin, who was sitting completely still. "The fastest he has. We can leave immediately. It won't be a fun trip but we'll get back in time, barely."

"Do we know why they are coming?" Thorin asked.

"Aside from Sauron being an ass who'd like to see us all dead in general?" Dwalin replied. "No."

"I may have an idea," Ecthelion interjected. He shifted on one foot, looking grave. "I have told you of the recent rumblings from Mordor, as well as the increased attacks on Osgiliath. We believe Mordor is readying a full-scale assault, and they aim to use Osgiliath as a launch point."

Thorin nodded. "I'm aware." It was part of why he'd been gone so much of late. They needed a way to get into Mordor, quickly, before the path was blocked by an army of orcs.

Ecthelion nodded. "If the attack comes, and Erebor were to fall to the invaders from the east--"

"You'd find yourself facing two armies," Thorin said, realization setting in, "from two directions."

"We'd be caught in the middle," Ecthelion agreed, "and you and I both know no aid would be coming."

No help _could_ come, Fili thought. If Erebor fell it would stand to reason Mirkwood would fall along with it. Rohan was busy trying to save itself and Rivendell did not possess the strength or size necessary to repel one army, let alone two.

If Erebor fell, and Gondor followed, there would be no use in destroying the ring.

There'd be nothing left to save.

"Erebor cannot fall," Aragorn said slowly, horror dawning in his eyes.

"She won't," Thorin said shortly. "Not so long as I am her king."

Fili heard shuffling and turned to see Bilba quietly slip out of the room, pulling the door partly closed behind her. After greeting Dwalin and asking after the rest of the Company, she'd followed along silently as they'd gone to find Thorin, and had been standing in a back corner. Fili glanced toward Kili, who was sitting on a nearby couch. Kili inclined his head, one eyebrow raised in question, and Fili gave a short nod.

He backed up carefully, grabbing the edge of the door, and left the room. He pulled it shut after him, the click barely audible. He saw no sign of Bilba but she couldn't have made it far.

Several minutes, and three helpful guards, later Fili found her standing at the edge of a massive balcony in an unused guest suite. He leaned on the railing next to her and followed her line of sight.

Mordor. She'd found a balcony that gave her a view of Mordor. Specifically, the mountain range surrounding it. At the base, he could see Osgilith, large sections in ruin from years’ worth of attacks as well as the city almost constantly changing hands between the orcs and the Men. Gondor was currently in control but, given the present state of the world, there was no telling how long that would last.

He wondered what it must be like to live with Mordor practically on their doorstep. A large plain lay between the White City and the mountain range but, still, it was much closer than he'd ever imagined and far closer than he'd ever want to willingly be, much less live.

"They say it's supposed to be cold," Bilba suddenly said, voice so quiet it was nearly a whisper.

Fili tore his gaze from the mountain range and turned it to her.

Bilba was completely still, head up and eyes fixed on Mordor. She held her hands clasped against her chest as if in prayer, and clutched between her fingers was a braid he hadn't realized she still had. He still clearly remembered his uncle kneeling before Bilba and slicing his own braid off as he swore himself to her. He knew she'd had the braid up until Rivendell but couldn't recall seeing it after that, not that he'd given it much thought. There had been far more pressing matters demanding his attention.

"You'd think it'd be hot," she went on, as if they were having a normal conversation, "but all the books say it's cold." She turned her head finally to look at him, and he was startled at how pale she was even as her face and voice projected calm. "Do you think it's cold?"

Fili lifted a hand toward her, hesitated, and then reached out to grip her shoulder. "Bilba?"

She gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's all right," she whispered, looking away again. "I'm just working up the courage."

"Bilba," Fili repeated, voice firm. He gently grabbed her other shoulder and turned her to face him. She gazed up at him and he frowned. "What are you getting the courage up for?"

"To give the bracelet back," she said as if he should know perfectly well what she was talking about. "He made me keep it because he's an idiot and I should have been wearing it already but I forgot and--" Her voice cracked and she stopped, frowning. As he watched, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "I forgot because of...well, everything...but...anyway, I need to give it back now before you all leave."

"What are you talking about?" Fili asked in surprise. "Who said we're leaving?"

"You have to." A watery shine entered her eyes and she looked away from him, a muscle in her jaw working as she swallowed thickly. "You have to go save Erebor...and I have to go to Mordor."

"We don't all have to go," Fili said in confusion, "and we won't. You're not going to Mordor alone, Bilba. We already decided that."

"You did." Bilba agreed, her eyes tracking back toward the mountains as her voice took on an oddly faraway quality, "but I don't think I have a choice. Erebor needs her king, and her heirs. What would your people think if the sons of Durin weren't there in her moment of deepest need?"

"They would think the sons of Durin were helping save the world," Fili retorted. He gently took her chin and turned her back to look at him. "Nothing is going to stop me and Kili from going with you. As for Uncle--" He sighed, disquiet. "I doubt he'd even accept that braid. He's sworn to stay with you repeatedly. He won't just abandon that, no matter what else has happened."

"He has to," Bilba repeated firmly. She pulled away and stepped just out of his reach. "He never wanted to restore Erebor for himself. He wanted to do it for his people, for his father and grandfather's memories," her eyes came up to lock with his. "He wanted to do it for _you_ and your brother, and his sister. It's his dream, the one thing that kept him going through a century of exile. He _has_ to go."

"He has an obligation to you as well," Fili insisted. "He can't just--"

"He has to!" Bilba bit out, voice rising. Fire replaced the sadness in her eyes and color rose in her cheeks. She tightened her hand around the bracelet, dark strands and lighter ones escaped the braid and fanned out over her hand. "He has to go, Fili." Her voice was composed again, and resigned.

"Why? Fili asked.

Bilba sighed and went to lean on the railing again, looking out toward the Osgiliath and the darkness that lay beyond it.  

"Because I can't be the reason he doesn't." Bilba spoke without looking at him, her voice nearly a whisper. She shook her head and looked down at her hands. She'd clasped them together on the railing, and was idling running a thumb over the strands of the braid. "I can't be the reason, Fili, not even if he says it's his choice. If he goes with me, and Erebor falls..."

"What if he goes to Erebor and you fall?" Fili interrupted sharply. "Who will he blame then?"

"Myself," a familiar baritone said, "but, then, I imagine I'll be doing that either way."

Thorin strode out onto the balcony, Kili at his side. He spotted the braid Bilba was holding and went to grab her hands, nearly swallowing them in his much larger grasp. "Finally planning to give me an order?" he asked, a half smile on his face.

Bilba's jaw trembled and she gave a watery laugh. "Would you obey me if I did?"

"Depends on what you asked." He leaned forward and, without even seeming to realize it, Bilba matched the movement, pulling her hands free to wrap around him in a tight embrace.

"You have to go back," she said softly, voice muffled by the way she was pressing her face into his chest. "Your people need you."

"So do you," he responded. Unlike her, Fili couldn't begin to guess what his uncle was thinking. He'd perfected the art of looking, and sounding, emotionless when necessary. The initial shock had rattled him, but now he was in full king mode.

In retrospect, Fili supposed that in and of itself told him how exactly how his uncle was feeling.

"There needs to be two of you," Bilba mumbled into his shirt. "One could go, and one could stay."

Thorin wrapped his arms more securely around her and kissed her on the top of the head. "There are two of me," he said shortly. His eyes flickered toward Fili and he, in turn, felt his own widen. "Fili has my training, knowledge and a fraction of my stubbornness. You couldn't ask for one better."

Fili literally felt as if his heart had stopped in his chest. "What?"

"I should have listened to you at Erebor," Thorin said, locking eyes with him, "ring or no ring. For that I am sorry, as well as for not saying so sooner."

Fili gaped at the other dwarf. His mind, usually so full of methods of speech and appropriate responses drilled into him over a lifetime of training, decided that would be the perfect moment to utterly fail him. "You didn't trust me," he blurted finally, his mouth apparently choosing that moment to betray him as well. "Just like Bilba and Kili didn't trust me to go after Smaug."

Bilba turned her head to rest against Thorin's chest and gave him a confused look. "You're not an archer," she said matter of fact, "and I felt bad enough getting Kili involved. I didn't want to compound it by getting you involved too."

A hand fell on his shoulder and then Kili was giving him an annoyed look. "Not to mention you'd have stopped us. Which, in hindsight, might have been a good indication that we were making the wrong decision."

"True," Bilba agreed. She seemed to have decided that hugging Thorin was what she wanted to do for the next hour or so and proceeded to turn her head away from them to get back to it. Thorin didn't seem to mind.

"We followed you back from Erebor," Kili said idly, as he moved past him to stand next to Bilba. Something flickered in his eyes, an odd emotion, but it was gone too fast for Fili to identify.

"You followed an entire group back," Fili corrected, "led by Glorfindel, if I recall correctly."

"We followed Glorfindel," Kili agreed, "but we looked to you, just as we did on the way back to the Shire from Rivendell which, as _I_ recall, was just the three of us."

Fili opened his mouth to respond, only to snap it shut again as he realized his brother was correct. He and Bilba _had_ looked to him, often deferring to his judgment on the road to Rivendell and then again back to the Shire. It had been so natural, so automatic, he'd barely registered it.

"You're a good leader," Bilba said, without lifting her head, "even if you picked up your uncle's stupid self-doubt habits."

"Uncle doesn't have self-doubt," Fili said without thinking, only to see his uncle give him a shallow smile.

"Everyone has doubts. Some of us just hide them better." Thorin gently disentangled himself from Bilba and walked over to rest a hand on Fili's shoulder. "We cannot both go, and we cannot both stay," he said, grave. "There is no guarantee we'll meet again outside the Halls of Waiting. I would have us part on good terms, if possible."

A weight he'd carried so long he'd forgotten he had it seemed to lift off Fili and, without thinking, he almost lunged forward to throw his arms around his uncle.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," he whispered against Thorin's neck. "I allowed my own doubts to place a wedge between us."

"And I allowed it to fester," Thorin responded, returning the embrace in full measure. "The blame is mine."

"Thorin thinks everything is his fault," Bilba muttered from behind them. "I'm surprised he doesn't blame himself for the killing of the Two Trees."

"About damn time," Kili said, and then he was there and Thorin dragged him in for an embrace as well.

"I owe you an apology as well," he started to say but was promptly glared him into silence.

"We could spend a year apologizing to one another. Why don't we just both say the other is forgiven and leave it at that?" Kili stepped away and glanced toward Bilba before adding, "Besides, I refuse to get involved in this whole 'things left unsaid' business you're into. I don't know about you but I damn well plan on coming back from all this." That look passed through his eyes again but, for the second time, Fili was unable to identify it. "In case that wasn't clear enough, I'm planning to come back from _Mordor_. I'm going with you." His expression almost seemed to dare Fili to contradict him but Fili merely walked over and hugged him instead.

"Of course you are," he said, slightly bewildered. "Where else would you be?" He and his brother were always together. It would be unfathomable to go on without him now. If this was to be his last adventure, then he damn well wanted it to be with his brother by his side, not off potentially dying on some battlefield.

"Is that what we're doing?" Bilba asked softly from where she still stood near the railing. "Saying our last good-byes?"

"I thought you were afraid of heights," Thorin said, completely ignoring what she'd said. "Why are you so close to the edge?"

"There's a railing," Bilba answered. "I don't mind it when there are railings." She frowned at him. "You never answered the question."

"I didn't realize one had been asked." Thorin went to her and, together, they turned their backs to the railing and leaned against it. Behind them, Mordor took up the horizon, framing the two of them where they stood.

"I need to go to Mordor," Bilba said, her voice flat and oddly monotone as if she spoke from somewhere else, "and you need to go to Erebor." She looked down at her hand, and the braid still twined around it. "You need to go," she whispered, almost to herself. "It'll be safer, all things considered. Our sons deserve one of us back. It should be you."

"Why is that?" Thorin asked, eyes narrowed.

"Because you're the only one who has a chance of being there when they're adults," Bilba argued. "Even if I make it back from Mordor--" Her voice trailed off.

"I'm aware," Thorin said, and Fili had the sudden thought that his uncle was looking forward in time, to when he might have to one day say good-bye to Bilba for good while he still had years stretching out before him.

The thought made Fili's guts twist, as he realized it'd be the same for him, and Kili. All of them would have to say good-bye to her. He'd always felt pride at the dwarves having a longer lifespan than most but now it suddenly felt more like a curse than a blessing.

"You're aware," Bilba said, almost under her breath, "and yet you still insist on coming after me instead of looking for someone who won't make a widower of you when you're barely middle aged."

"Someone else wouldn't be you," Thorin responded without hesitation. "I told you before. You are my One, and that choice was made with my eyes open. It is not something I would change, no matter the pain that may lie in store at the end of the journey. You are worth the cost."

Fili chose not to point out that, given the circumstances, Bilba could potentially end up outliving Uncle or, at the worst, neither of them might live to see the outcome of the war.

He had a feeling they already knew.

Thorin and Bilba were completely silent and still where they stood. Bilba seemed deep in thought while Thorin appeared to be...waiting, though, for what, Fili couldn't tell. He stayed where he was, as did Kili.

Bilba carefully pushed off the railing. She grabbed Thorin's hand and tugged him forward and then made some sort of motion Fili didn't understand. Thorin apparently did, however, as he immediately sank to one knee before her.  

For a few long seconds, the two of them simply stared at one another and Fili had the sudden conviction that he and Kili were witnessing a full conversation without a single word being spoken.

Bilba took the bracelet in her hand and gently released both ends. She then began to unwind it until she had a ribbon of unbound hair in her hand. Fili half expected her to separate out his uncle's hair from her own but she left it, instead reaching with her other hand for a section of Thorin's hair.

She then, slowly, began to braid it, weaving in the hair from her hand as she did until Thorin once again bore a braid one each side of his face, one dark brown, and one a mix of darker and lighter strands. The moment felt deeply intimate, far too much for an audience, but Fili couldn't bring himself to break the atmosphere by leaving and a look at Kili showed he felt the same way. So, instead, they both stood still, silent sentinels to a moment of peace before their Fellowship broke one final time.

Bilba grabbed the lapels of his coat and tugged. Thorin obediently got to his feet, and then jerked in surprise as Bilba dragged him forward, lifted up on her toes, and kissed him full on the lips.

"Also about damn time," Fili heard his brother mutter under his breath.

Thorin stood stock still, as if in disbelief. Then, almost hesitantly, he lifted his hands to settle on her hips, pulling her closer. Bilba, in turn, ran her hands under his braids and back into his hair.

A few moments later, she broke off and pressed her forehead to his. "It has to be you," she whispered, her words clearly meant for him and him alone. "You know that."

"I planned to go with you," he responded, voice equally as quiet. "To the very end."

"You promised a home once, for me and our sons." Bilba moved her hands to grip his upper arms. "Now someone is trying to take it."

His hands tightened on her hips. "They will fail."

Bilba kissed him again, a light peck and then fixed him with a smile that only barely reached her eyes. "See that they do. I expect it to be there when I get back."

Fili expected his uncle to ask for her to promise that she would come back.

He didn't.

Instead he looked over at Fili and said, "I told them I carried the ring."

"I'll say you passed it to me," Fili said. He started to ask if his uncle had come up with a plan to get into Mordor, only to realize Thorin would have already told him if he had.

Which meant he was trusting them, _him_ , to come up with one.

"Thorin." Dwalin was standing in the doorway, hesitant. "We need to go."

Fili flinched. Thorin tugged his ring off and leaned forward to kiss Bilba on the forehead while simultaneously pressing the ring into her palm and closing her fingers around it. He lowered his forehead to rest against hers and shut his eyes while she did the same.

They didn't speak. There was so much to say and absolutely no time with which to say it. Rohan was fighting for its life while Erebor soon would be. There were rumblings coming from Mordor and incursions into Osgilith.

The Fellowship had fractured, but from necessity, each member desperately attempting to hold the world in check long enough for a single hobbit to complete her quest. The fate of the world hinged upon Bilba's success, while her success in turn hinged upon the Fellowship's ability to keep the world safe in her absence. There was no use in fighting if the ring wasn't destroyed, and no use destroying the ring if Middle Earth fell to darkness in the meantime.

Thorin whispered something in her ear, too low for anyone else to hear.

Then, as if physically tearing himself away, he roughly drew back and grabbed Kili in a rough hug. He pressed his forehead to the younger dwarf's, said something in a low voice, and then it was Fili's turn.

"Do you know what you're trusting me with?" Fili couldn't help but ask as his uncle dragged him into an embrace.

Thorin pulled away enough to look back at Bilba and Kili. "I do." He locked eyes with Fili. "Come back, all three of you."

"I expect to find you waiting when we do," Fili said, voice suddenly hoarse. His eyes were burning and he fought to hold them in check.

Thorin's eyes were red rimmed as he smiled with affection and put his hand on the side of Fili's face. "I have always been proud of you, Fili."

That almost did him in right there but Fili managed to stay in control. barely.

"Tell Amad we're sorry."

"I'll tell her you're saving the world," Thorin returned.

He looked at them all again, one by one, opened his mouth as if to speak, changed his mind and closed it.  

Then he was gone, nearly running and Fili knew it wasn't just because of how dire the need was but also because his uncle understood if he tarried even a moment later he'd never be able to leave at all.

Bilba gave a short gasp as he vanished, both hands once again clasped to her chest but this time clutching his ring between her fingers. She stayed like that a long time, as if frozen in that single moment, before suddenly giving a sharp cry and bolting from the room.

"Bilba!" Fili took off after her, Kili on his heels. He expected her to run toward the doors leading to the lower levels but she didn't.

She flew down one hall and then another until a large set of double doors rose in front of her. She slammed into them and Fili blinked as bright sunlight struck his eyes. When his vision cleared he found himself on the top level of Minas Tirith, facing the Court of the Fountain and the withered tree planted in the center of it.

Bilba was already past it, running down the outcropping of rock that jutted out from the city and ran the full length down to the bottom. It had no railings and was impossibly high but she ran it as though she were on level ground.

"Bilba!" This shout came from Kili and he blew past Fili in a near panic, clearly afraid the young woman would suddenly realize how high she was and panic.

Fili wasn't sure he was wrong.

He sped after them but Kili had always been the faster and he caught up to Bilba just as she reached the narrowest part of the spit, overlooking the massive plain far below. He caught her around the waist and lifted her clear off her feet before gently setting her down again. He didn't remove his arms and Bilba didn't try to make him. She simply collapsed against him, hands still clasped around Uncle's ring.

Her eyes were fixed far below, on that plain, and it didn't take long to see why.

The gates of Minis Tirith opened slowly and two specks, barely visible against the terrain from that distance, sped out on fast mounts. Bilba let out another cry as if something had torn inside her and tried to take a step forward only to have Kili drag her back again. He said something to her and the tone of his own voice was ragged and raw. Fili glanced at him and saw his brother’s eyes shining and his jaw set as he too kept his eyes fixed on those fast-moving dots.

Together, Kili and Bilba watched as Thorin and Dwalin grew still smaller, until they were nearly lost on the horizon.

Fili, meanwhile, watched Bilba and Kili. His brother, and a woman he'd accepted, and grown to love, as a sister. Two living, breathing people vitally important to him, and to others.

Two people his uncle had entrusted him with, who were even now turning toward him, eyes red and faces drawn as they looked to him for answers.

Fili stood straight and raised his chin, locking away the turmoil churning in his own gut and forcing down the sting in his eyes.

His uncle trusted him.

Kili and Bilba trusted him.

He'd be damned if he let any of them down.

"Let's go. We've got a ring to destroy."

 

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

Osgiliath fell two days later.

She was crawling with orcs by the day after and, just like that, they were out of time.

Bilba stood once more on the shelf of rock that made up the top level of Gondor. She was at its base, the length of it stretching out before her and slowly narrowing until it formed a blunt tip, pointing directly toward Mordor.

Odd how she hadn't noticed that before.

Almost as strange as the fact that, with her eyes fixed upon Mordor, the height at which she stood, without a railing in sight, didn't bother her.

It turned out there was something that terrified her far worse than falling.

A gust of wind whipped up around her legs, tangling the skirt of the dress she wore and lifting the loose strands of hair draped about her shoulders and back. She'd requested the dress that morning, and slowly let her hair out of its braid as she'd waited.

She wasn't entirely sure why, other than the act of wearing a dress and letting her hair down called her back to a simpler time. One where her greatest worries had been over her garden and whether she would make it to market before the best fish were gone.

It would be about that time now, she noted absently. Perhaps, even then, Priscilla was meandering amongst the stalls, picking and choosing what she wanted. Perhaps she had Ash and Frerin with her. How much bigger had they gotten, Bilba wondered. Were they crawling yet? Perhaps babbling or forming small words?

Did they remember her?

She flinched and tightened the arm she currently had wrapped around her chest. Her other hand was at her side, idly toying with a ring. Thorin's ring. Thorin who was off to fight still another army for the safety of a kingdom hard won, and even harder held.

A deep ache and hollowness settled in her bones. At her back, the bare limbs of a dead tree rattled and cast strange, moving shadows on the ground around and in front of her. Bilba didn't know why that single tree was there, or why it was left when it was so clearly dead, but it seemed fitting for such a place, and time as this.

An old memory swam to the surface of her mind, of a book she'd once read as a very small child. Back before Bungo had been born even, when it had been just her and parents

Back before it had all come apart.

It had been a simple story, with a tragic ending. A young woman on a journey who'd lost her loved ones along the way. Bilba could still remember carrying the book, which had been quite advanced and difficult to muddle through, to her mother and crawling in her lap to show her a word she couldn't make out.

_"What's this word mean?"_

_"Bereft, sweetheart. It means feeling like you're been deprived of something, or robbed of it."_

She hadn't understood it then, or for a long time after.

When her parents and Bungo had died she'd felt pain.

When she thought she'd lost the Company, and Thorin in the process, she'd felt fear.

When she thought she'd lost her babies she'd felt anguish.

She'd felt many things, many forms of grief over the years. If asked, she might have claimed she'd felt them all.

She would have been wrong.

 

Because now, this time, for the very first time, she felt bereft.

 

She felt robbed.

 

Robbed of her peace, her happiness, her chance to watch her children grow...

 

Robbed of her anchor.

 

 

She needed Thorin.

 

 

More than Gandalf or Aragorn or Glorfindel or any other member of the Fellowship and she hadn't even truly realized it until he'd _left..._ and the only feeling she could conjure in response was that she felt _bereft_. 

 

It was the ring.

 

Mostly.

 

It was an easy thing, she'd found, to simply blame everything on the ring. To lay every insecurity, every fear, every doubt at its doorstep but, in the end, the ring only worked with what was already there. It amplified emotion, twisted and used it, but it didn't create it.

And the emotions it was currently using against her was one she couldn't speak of to anyone, not that she had many people left she could talk to. Only Fili and Kili and, Yavanna knew, she could _never_ speak to them about it because they would never understand.

It wasn't that she didn't trust them, and it certainly wasn't that she didn't love them or want them by her side.

 

It was that Fili was leading and Kili was his second and Bilba was _older_ than both of them.

 

Oh, not chronologically. They were decades older than she was in terms of actual years. It was that, when dwarven years were measured against hobbit years and the equivalency worked out side by side, the boys were _younger_. Not by much, granted, but enough and it meant they would still be several years from their getting out of their Tweens had they been hobbits and she was months from being out of hers and they were all _so damned young_ and yet were expected to walk into Mordor and destroy the ring and if they _failed_...Yavanna help them all, if they failed...

It was far too great a burden.

It was far too much to ask.

 

There was no one else.

 

Her eyes burned and she let out a shallow breath. She was shaking and not from the cold, fingers curling around the ring in her hand so tight the edges cut into her palm. She shut her eyes and raised her closed fist to her mouth. Her stomach churned and she was grateful she hadn't eaten that morning.

She opened her eyes and raised her head to stare out over the plain at that not so distant mountain range.

Then, very deliberately, she turned her back on it and headed inside.

A fellowship had volunteered to go with her, and were currently off risking their lives to give her time to succeed, to make sure she had a world to come back too.

They were saving Middle Earth.

There would be no one coming to save her.

***

They readied in silence, save for the quiet clop of hooves upon cobblestone.

Bilba stood against a wall and watched as saddles were cinched, armor and shields strapped on and swords shoved into sheaths.

Just outside the gates leading from the plaza to the next level down, row upon row of townspeople stood waiting.

None of them spoke.

Word had spread, and while they did not understand the reason for the mission, they well understood the result.

 

Few, if any, of those going would be coming back.

 

 

Fifteen hundred had volunteered.

 

 

Fifteen hundred, and all Ecthelion had told them was it was a matter of great importance, that, if successful, could spell the doom of Sauron and his evil for all time.

That was it.

That was all he told them.

Come, join us on a mission without knowing what it truly is, that _might_ save everything you've ever loved, but only at the cost of your own life...and _fifteen hundred_ men had stepped forward.

 

It had been Fili who'd come up with the idea.

 

He and Kili, Aragorn and Ecthelion had spent hours bent over a map searching for a way into Mordor.

It had been a truly ridiculous thing to realize none of them had thought to ask Gandalf, and he'd never thought to volunteer.

Assuming he even knew a way.

Bilba had spent hours up on that outcrop, staring at the plains and willing the wizard to arrive, with a host of Rohirrim behind him. But the plains stayed silent, and the only gathering host was the one Gondor spies claimed was preparing to march from Minus Morgul.

And so, they were out of time, and they could not wait for Gandalf or anyone else.

It would have to be them. Her and Fili and Kili, three people barely old enough to be considered adults and on whom the fate of Middle Earth now rested.

And the only path to victory was one where it seemed failure was a near certainty.

_"You want to what?"_

_Fili's face was pale, more than she'd ever seen it and she'd seen him at death's door. He spread the map on her bed, next to where she was sitting. The frantic knocking on her door had come before the sun had even risen. She'd been awake, for there was no sleeping with the ring near screaming in her mind. It sensed its nearness to its master and the itching at the corners of her mind had transformed into claws. Terrified it would somehow find a way out of her pocket, she'd slid it onto a chain and put it around her neck where the weight dragged at her and the links of the chain dug into her flesh. It hurt, but at least she would know for sure the damn thing was still there._

_"We ride straight into Osgiliath," Fili said, eyes wide and his pupils blown. "We'll cover it as an attack, an attempt to take back the city."_

_"It's suicide," Bilba said shortly. "The orcs will slaughter us."_

_"It's the only way," Fili insisted. "We can't go around. There's no time. Erebor and Rohan are besieged, and Gondor soon will be. We have to go, as straight and as fast as possible."_

_"And where would we go?" Bilba asked shortly. She shifted on the bed, drawing her robe tighter around her shoulders. The map crackled as her knees touched it and she grimaced, studying the neat lines and lettering. It all seemed so simple there, no orcs or armies standing in their way. Just a short walk into a small city and, past that, into a mountain range. "How are we supposed to get in?" They certainly couldn't go through the Black Gate. They weren't anywhere near it, for one thing and, for another, she doubted Sauron would politely open it for them and invite them in._

_On second thought, she thought with a near hysterical laugh, perhaps he would._

_Fili's eyes searched her and she looked away, uneasy with how much he could probably see._

_"Ecthelion says there's a sewer system in Osgiliath large enough for us to travel. If we can make it there, we can get to the Morgul Vale unseen. From there we just have to make it past Minas Morgul--"_

_"Where an entire army waits to march at any second," Bilba cut in, bitterness coloring her tone._

_Fili frowned but continued. "If we make it past that Ecthelion reports a secret stair--"_

_"Which can't be that secret if he knows about it." Fili sent her a censuring look and Bilba dropped her eyes from his, one hand clutching at her robe while the other curled into the blankets tangled under her legs. "Sorry," she whispered._

_Fili's hand covered hers for a moment, squeezing in reassurance, before he went back to the map, hand tracing their route. "There's a tunnel," here he hesitated and Bilba knew full well he wasn't telling her something but he didn't offer and she didn't ask, "and then the pass of Cirith Ungol into Mordor itself." He paused again, eyes flickering toward hers, before adding, "there's an orc watchtower in that pass. If we make it through --"_

_"We'll be in Mordor," Bilba whispered, "and the hard part will begin." She sighed. "So many ifs."_

_His hand covered hers again and Bilba looked up to see his eyes locked on hers. Past him, Kili leaned against the doorframe, an uncharacteristically hard look on his face._

_"It's the only way," Fili said gently. "We have to try."_

_Bilba gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes and squeezed his hand in return. "Then let us try."_

"Are you ready?"

Bilba blinked and looked up to see Aragorn standing over her, one hand holding the reins of a horse. She glanced down at herself. She'd left the dress behind and returned to a sturdy set of breeches, boots, shirt and vest. A thick cloak would hopefully help in the bitter cold of Mordor and Kili had braided her hair back again into the plait she'd grown accustomed too. She'd been presented with a small sword she currently carried at her hip and prayed she'd never have to use, along with a boot knife and a knapsack filled with supplies. Fili and Kili were similarly arrayed, the first with all the weapons he traditionally carried and Kili with two bows and three quivers filled with arrows.

"No," Bilba said simply, "but we should go anyway." She frowned at him. "You should stay, Aragorn. Gondor cannot see you fall."

He fell easily to one knee before her and gently took her hand in both of his. "Gondor cannot see me stay behind while others ride into danger," he corrected gently. He stood, took a step away and easily pulled himself into the saddle of the horse. "Are you ready?" he asked again.

Bilba studied the men, most of whom were already mounted. Two of the largest men had been chosen to carry Fili and Kili, who were seated behind them. They couldn't ride full sized steeds and they risked drawing attention if they rode ponies.

In one corner of the small plaza, Ecthelion was watching the proceedings somberly. His eyes drifted to her and Bilba looked away sharply. The man wasn't an idiot, and there was little chance he still believed Fili carried the ring. It had made more sense when Thorin had been there and she'd been passed off as his lover, brought along to protect her. It still made sense after he'd returned to Erebor, leaving her behind where it would, hopefully, be safer.

It made absolutely no sense for her to go into Mordor.

The lie fell apart at that point and the assessing looks she'd been getting from some of the nobility pushed the truth home even more.

There was no safety to be found for her, not anymore.

Not so long as she carried the ring.

Movement caught her eye as a young man about fourteen, with dark hair and a slim build strode over to Ecthelion. The older man's entire face softened as he gazed down at the boy and Bilba felt her heart twist. She'd met Ecthelion's son the day before, a soft-spoken youth who fought to keep a positive outlook even as he watched stress and fear wear his father down.

Even as he watched his grandfather slowly forget him. The young man had taken Bilba to meet his grandfather, who apparently rarely left his rooms, and she had quickly realized the Steward was not just simply sick. He was an old man and, as happened sometimes with the elderly, was beginning to struggle with his memory and with normal day to day activities. He was still in the early stages, when he knew full well what was happening but was powerless to stop it, and, much like his son and grandson, did his best to make the most of the time he had left. It quickly became clear that Ecthelion had taken over as much responsibility as he could while still allowing his father his dignity and was Steward in all but name.

Turgon had been gracious and kind to her and Fili and Kili when they'd stopped in and Bilba had come away with a deep respect and affection for the entire family.

Now she watched as Ecthelion and his son interacted, the young boy clearly trying to cheer his father up and his father trying to pretend he wasn't as worried as he was.

Bilba lifted her head and shut her eyes for a second, feeling the warmth of the sun beating down upon her and the coolness of the breeze wrapping about her.

She opened her eyes and saw Aragorn still watching her, patiently. Bilba stepped forward, raised her hand and allowed him to pull her into the saddle behind him. Aragorn wore a heavy cloak, as did the two carrying Fili and Kili and several others to try and throw off suspicion.

Slowly, they began to move out, with Aragorn leading the way. Word of his presence and identity had spread, until most of Gondor knew who he was. Aragorn wasn't interested in taking the throne yet, it was neither the time nor the place for it. The kingdom was under threat and the last thing the people needed was an untested king who had done nothing to earn or deserve the title. Instead of trying to force his claim, causing chaos in a situation that had more than enough of it already, Aragorn had instead decided to help in whatever capacity he could.

When the call for volunteers had gone out, he had been the first to step forward.

The street angled downward and horses and men closed around behind them, until they were being followed by a mass of humanity. Armor clanked and swords creaked inside their scabbards, horses snorted and leather creaked.

No one spoke.

As they traveled, Bilba watched the people of Gondor lining both sides of the street. Many had flowers they tossed on the cobblestone or handed to passing soldiers. Others wept quietly. A few young women darted forward to reach up for one final hug or kiss, while others simply reached out to lightly grab a hand for a brief instant before it was pulled from their grasp.

Several looked at her, and Bilba saw their eyes narrow and their brows furrow in confusion but no one made a comment. It was a testament, she supposed, to the sort of person Ecthelion was that he inspired such total faith in his people  

The journey down was slow, but the crowds never dissipated. Every level, every street was lined with people on both sides. Men and women, young and old, children brought out to witness an event that would be written about in the history books, assuming there was anyone left to write them

The gates came into view and Bilba felt her stomach knot. She curled her fingers into Aragorn's belt and tried to focus on breathing. She was shaking and struggled to sit up straight and appear braver than she felt. If the story ever made it back to the Shire, and the ears of her sons, she so wanted them to hear she had been brave.

The gates rumbled open and she leaned out past Aragorn to catch sight of the vast Pelennor Fields. In peaceful times, they would be filled with farmers and travelers. Now the fields were empty and the road vacant.

Bilba studied that road, wishing desperately she could be on it and traveling to anywhere that wasn't here.

Instead, the horse stepped out of the gate and into the grass. A wind rippled through the land, bringing with it a false peace soon to be broken.

Aragorn shifted and Bilba leaned back to allow him to pull his cloak free and drape it around her. As he did, Bilba pressed as close to him as she could, trying to make herself as small as possible. The cloak was heavy and she almost immediately felt a sweltering heat settle down on her. Aragorn urged the horse into a canter and then a full gallop.

Through glimpses as the cloak moved, she watched as the men spread out and surrounded them until they were but one in the midst of over a thousand. The ground thundered and steel rang as swords were drawn from scabbards.

Bilba felt the horse shift at Aragorn's command, dropping them to the middle of the group until they were but one of many and, hopefully, drew no special notice. She couldn't see Fili and Kili, had no idea which of the cloaked men carried them and could only hope and pray they would survive. As much as she didn't want to do this, the only thing worse would be trying to do it alone.

She risked leaning out just enough and saw the white stone of Osgiliath rapidly coming into view. Movement caught her eye just beyond its battlements, orcs scurrying to and fro as they hurriedly got into position.

Bilba's mind drifted back to her room in Gondor and the dress she had left spread out on the bed. Next to it lay Adalgrim's watch, and Thorin's ring, neither of which she wanted anywhere near the darkness of Mordor. Along with those items she had left letters, to Priscilla and Seth explaining the sacrifice of their son; and to Ash and Frerin explaining, she hoped, why their mother and father had to leave them. There was a letter for Thorin and one for Aragorn, should he survive, and Ecthelion if he did not. She asked that the letters be delivered and that Adalgrim's watch and Thorin's ring be sent along with them to Priscilla, the watch for her and the ring for Ash and Frerin in the event neither of their parents returned.

There had been other letters as well, an entire pile's worth and it had startled her to realize just how many she loved, and how many loved her. She'd always considered herself to be a loner of sorts, a misfit who never truly fit anywhere.

It was clear to her now just how very wrong she'd been.

Someone gave a shout and Bilba glanced out from under the cloak and saw several men looking up. She followed their gaze and drew in a sharp gasp as she witnessed the sky turn nearly black as a wave of arrows rose over top of them. Around them, riders fumbled to get their shields, small and round and woefully inadequate, up over their heads. With the speed and movement of the horses it was near impossible to keep them steady, and the angle soon tired and dragged down their arms.

Even if they made it through this round, as they drew closer, the orcs would simply send multiple volleys, from several angles, and what little protection the shields did give would be gone.

As she watched death rise over them, Bilba found her life flashing before her. There were some, and Bilba had often been among them, who might argue her life had been nothing but a series of tragedies and misfortune, repeated bad luck threatening to destroy her at the slightest misstep.

Of late, however, she'd been starting to see it another way.

She should have died so many times; from the trolls, to wandering in the wild, to the quest and all the events after. So _many_ times, and yet here she was and the only answer her mind could possibly come up with was that someone, somewhere, was watching out for her. Someone, for reasons she neither knew nor understood, had taken an interest in her, and had been looking out for her when she couldn't look out for herself.

And so, as the arrows began to fall, Bilba shut her eyes as tight as possible and prayed that she was still being looked out for.

That there was still an interest.

And that she would be brought through tragedy yet again.

_Oh, save us._

And then the arrows struck, and the screams began, and there was no time to think anything anymore.


	28. Chapter 28

Bilba kept her eyes closed, so tight it was nearly painful.

She wished she could stop up her ears just as easily.

Around her screams rang out, of both pain and victory. Over them all were the shrieks of wounded and dying horses, the sound they made an awful, otherworldly scream that reminded her far too much of the Nazgul that had chased them to the gates of Moria.

She could also hear, through brief breaks in the noise, the _thwip_ of arrows racing past, and the meaty _thunk_ of them hitting. Sometimes the sound was accompanied by the din of metal hopefully stopping the tip, other times the only response was another scream.

Under her, the horse bunched, and then they were soaring through the air. Bilba's heart leapt into her throat and her fingers convulsed where they clung to the edges of Aragorn's armor.

Then they landed with a heavy thud that vibrated through her bones, and she heard a multitude of hooves clattering on cobblestone. Forcing her eyes open just a bit, Bilba caught sight of the ruined husks of buildings flashing past. Other horses, with fellow survivors, rode on either side of them. She saw no sign of Fili or Kili.

They rounded a corner and Aragorn dragged on the reins. They horse stopped, but kept moving nervously, snorting and rearing with anxiety. The horses were trained for war but there was only so much anyone could take, human or equine.

Aragorn dismounted and turned to hold his arms up to her. "Come on!"

Bilba obediently reached down and he swung her to the ground next to him. Around him, the men who'd followed stayed mounted, weapons drawn and waiting. Against all odds, enough of them had survived to break the front ranks of orcs guarding the entrance to Osgiliath. The sounds of battle rang out around them but, so far, no one had come back as far as they had.

"Keep the path blocked," Aragorn ordered his men. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a nearby ruined building. Large blocks of concrete had come down, creating a haphazard maze of rubble and debris. A few dozen yards away, an unstable looking set of stairs led up to a cracked archway that had probably once been part of a larger structure but now stood alone.

Aragorn pushed her behind a large section of rubble, into a narrow section too large for him, and most orcs, to fit through but a perfect size for her. He was being rough, the grip on her arm tight enough to leave a bruise, but Bilba made no complaint. Aragorn was trying to keep her alive, was willing to die to do so, and she certainly wasn't going to fault him for not taking notice of every social nicety during the process.

"Stay here," he said shortly. "I'll bring Fili and Kili."

If they were still alive, a voice whispered in her mind. Bilba gritted her teeth, unceremoniously told the ring to shut up, and nodded at Aragorn. "How long should I wait?"

It was a reasonable question. Aragorn could find himself swarmed by orcs, or injured, or worse, and unable to return. If that was the case, and she sincerely hoped it _wasn't_ , she'd have no choice but to go on her own. Too many had died for her to give up now. Even if she had to go forward alone, terrifying as that thought was, she'd do it.

Aragorn frowned, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the battle. Stepping forward, he pointed further down the street. "If you go down that street and turn right you'll see the entrance to the sewers.â€� Bilba nodded and stood stiffly as he told her how to make her way through the Morgul Vale, toward Minas Morgul and to the secret stair leading up to a tunnel that would guide her through the Ephel Duath and onto the pass of Cirith Ungol."

Catching the barest hesitation in his voice, Bilba asked, "What's in the tunnel? Fili was keeping something from me, I'm sure of it."

"I don't know," Aragorn said truthfully, "but, whatever it is, it will surely be no match for the hobbit who slayed a dragon." He gave a gentle grin and got a rueful one in return.

"You know full well I didn't single handedly slay anything." Memories of the quest to reclaim Erebor brought back the pain of Thorin's absence but she kept the smile on her face and soldiered through. She'd allowed herself a time for mourning, now was the time to focus. She couldn't afford to be distracted. "And after the tunnel?"

"The pass is guarded by a watchtower," Aragorn continued, "which you should be able to sneak past if you're careful. After that you'll be in Mordor and be able to see Mount Doom." He looked grave and Bilba could see him working through her journey, and the obstacles in her path, in his mind.

She took a small step, out of the small alcove and, as if by unspoken command, Aragorn knelt to let her wrap both arms around his neck. "Dragon, remember?" she whispered into his ear. "I'll be fine. I'll make it all worth it, you'll see."

"That isn't what concerns me," Aragorn replied, wrapping both arms around her to return the embrace.

Bilba's only response was to hug him once again and then she released him and stepped back. He stood also, eyes red rimmed but expression carefully controlled.

"Wait for a quarter hour," he said, voice commanding. As if the throne were already his. "Then leave. We don't know when the army from Minas Morgul will march, the longer you linger the greater the danger you'll be caught."

"That would be unfortunate," Bilba agreed. She gave a smile that was very nearly genuine and said. "Good luck to you, Aragorn. I pray we will meet again."

"As do I." He gave a short nod and then he was gone, the men guarding his back falling in with him. Bilba settled back inside the cleft in the rocks and drew the small sword she'd been given. Mentally she began to count, slowly.

Several times she heard shouts and running footsteps and she sank back further, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Â The clang of swords came a few times, the thunk of a blade hitting a leather shield, and even the unmissable clink of weapons hitting the rubble she hid behind.

She was about halfway through the time when something seemed to shift. The air around her grew heavier; oppressive, as if a hand were pressing on her shoulders, urging her toward the ground. At the same time the temperature fell, from a mild day to near bone chilling cold, cutting like blades of ice through her clothing.

The noise of battle seemed to fall away, fading into a background din and then, total silence. The sound of her own breathing, the slow inhale and shuddering exhale, seemed unnaturally loud and she had the irrational fear it would draw the orcs right to her.

Then a shriek split the stillness.

Bilba jerked, fingers digging into her arms where she'd been hugging herself as a futile barrier against the cold.

The shriek came again, echoing through the area, before shifting into a guttural sound that, for an instant, brought Smaug to mind. That was impossible, though. She may not have personally killed him, but he _was_ dead. She'd witnessed it with her own eyes, and she was pretty sure Thorin would have commented on the not quite dead dragon in his Treasury. To be honest, she was surprised he hadn't commented on the completely dead dragon in his Treasury.

Smaug was dead, and yet as the sound came again it was unmistakably the scream of some sort of creature, and it was undeniably coming from overhead, so what....

Her shoulder began to ache, and then burn as if a slender blade were lodged in it.

"Oh, no," Bilba breathed, fear colder than the temperature around her, settling in her bones. "Please, no."

There came the beat of heavy wings and a dark shadow fell over the street past the rubble. Bilba heard the crunch of rock and almost physically _felt_ something massive settling on the arch next to where she hid.

She didn't have to look to know what, or in this case _who_ , it was. She had no idea which of the Nazgul it was, or what creature it was now using instead of a horse, but the pain in her shoulder was proof enough.

As was the sudden excitement of the ring.

The weight around her neck increased two-fold, links of the chain slicing into her skin. At the same time, the ring went berserk in her mind, pulling every doubt, every fear, insecurity and every bit of grief she'd carefully packed away out, flinging it into her mind.

_It'd be easier to just give him the ring._

Bilba clenched her teeth and shut her eyes as the barrage increased. It had let up a bit on the ride, letting her own misery do its work for it, but now the claws were back, shredding at the corners of her mind until she was convinced that she'd soon feel blood trickling down her temples.

 _Go_ the voice ordered. _You can go home, back to your spawn, and the dwarf._

 _"If I give in to you, I won't have a home to go back to,â€�_ she snarled, _"or anyone to share it with."_

The pain increased, stabbing into her mind, and she doubled over in agony, clutching her sides. The sword fell from her numbed fingers, clattering on the stone, and she desperately prayed the noise would be lost in the overall cacophony of battle.

The world seemed to gray out and, as if in a dream, she stood outside and watched her body stand shakily and stumble forward, toward the stairs leading up to that rock ledge. There was an outcropping arching over her, a bit of the building still stubbornly standing. It would protect her from view until she started up the steps.

 

Wait... what?

 

Bilba shook her head and, for a split second, clarity snapped in and she _was_ standing up and she _was_ stumbling forward toward the stairs. Memory surfaced, walking toward the Nazgul on Weathertop before Thorin stopped her, and she promptly tried to attack him with a knife.

She shuddered. Her arms had fallen to her sides and she wrapped them around herself again. The ring's assault didn't end but she was more aware of it now and, as with the emotions it used against her, could fight easier with the knowledge of what it was she needed to fight.

Swallowing hard, she crouched low and crept slowly to the bottom of the first step. The arch curved just a bit over her head, affording her enough cover to peek up.

The creature sitting on top of the archway was like nothing she'd ever seen. Its body was roughly shaped like that of a dragon though it lacked forelegs, even ones attached to its wings like Smaug's had been. Its skin was a dull gray and lacked the defined scales of Smaug, instead having skin more resembling what she'd expect to find on a snake. Its wings were as long as its body and leathery like a bat, while its head was little more than eyes and an open, tooth-filled maw at the end of long, sinewy neck. The creature sported wicked-looking spines and a long tail that looked like it could cause severe damage. A battered metal helmet sat on its head, with reins leading back to the rider.

The rider... him, she recognized. A Nazgul, one of the Nine, and not just any one; for on his head sat a large, metal cowl marking him as none other than the Witch King of Angmar.

The one who'd stabbed her... and thrown her off the spires of Erebor.

He was a special sort of bastard in other words, and he was currently blocking her path forward. The time limit Aragorn had set had long since passed but there was no way she could leave without him seeing her.

Not only that, but there was also the added complication of the ring threatening to take control again the second she let her guard down, as well as the tiny fact that, as she recalled, the Witch King was the one in charge of the army currently massing in Minas Morgul.

His presence outside the Dead City when Gondor expected an army to march out at any second could not be good. She needed to go, and now, but as long as he was squatting there like a particularly ugly bird she was stuck.

It was ironic, really. The foul creature had deliberately tried, and failed, to stop her on several occasions and now was doing it quite effectively without even realizing it.

She leaned away from the stair and shuffled back into her small alcove. The ring wailed in her mind and dragged at her neck but she ignored it. It probably said something that she'd adjusted to an almost constant level of attack from the thing, and only really reacted to more intense assault, but didn't have time to dwell on it.

She twisted around, hoping to somehow sneak out and perhaps around, only to nearly scream in shock as she came face to face with Fili crouched less than a foot or two away, just outside the cleft in the rocks where she hid.

He clamped a hand over her mouth, which was patently unpleasant as he was currently covered in filth from battle, but her only reaction was to go still and snap her mouth closed. She had certainly come a long way from the person she'd been before leaving the Shire with a pack of dwarves. Then she'd thought a simple trip to Bree was risky in terms of appropriateness. Briefly she wondered if she'd make the same choices all over again, knowing they'd end up with her where she was. The image of Ashrin and Frerin flashed through her mind and she knew that, without a doubt, the answer was yes.

That it would always be yes.

The whistle of arrows fired in quick succession caught her attention, followed by a scream from the creature overhead. She heard the beating of wings as it lifted off and then it was leaping forward to soar through the street, passing by so close she could smell the stink of its hide as it momentarily blocked out the light.

A low curse, and then Kili was diving around the corner of the collapsed stone block, crouching low and holding his bow in one hand. His other was settled on the top of an arrow still in the quiver but he released it as the creature kept going, flashing around the corner and vanishing toward the front lines of battle. He, and Fili, both looked bloodied and bruised but neither appeared injured. They had their supply packs and Kili's quivers were relatively full of arrows.

"Come on," Fili said in a low voice, reaching for her hand to help her up. "We need to--"

He got no further as Bilba launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and hitting him so hard he lost his balance and landed on his backside and one forearm. She felt him put an arm awkwardly around her waist as he struggled to push himself back up. Kili chuckled, reminding her that he was there, and promptly received the same treatment. He was expecting it, however, and managed to keep his position, giving his brother a smug look as Bilba grabbed his face between her hands and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Happy to see us?" he asked with a grin, and she responded by hugging him again.

"Yes."

Fili's hand slid under her arm and tugged, trying to get her up. "Come on, Bilba. We have to go. The army from Minas Morgul is marching."

Bilba could almost feel the blood draining from her face. "What?'

She allowed Fili to pull her to her feet, took a second to adjust the straps of her own pack on her shoulders, and looked in the direction she'd last seen Aragorn. "What about--"

"They're retreating." Fili grabbed her hand and tugged, pulling her along. Kili took up position behind her, bow and arrow at the ready.

"The Witch King," Bilba murmured, stumbling as she continued to worry. "That creature... there's no way they'll make it back across the field." She imagined it as she spoke, hundreds of yards of open space without so much as a single tree to hide behind.

"There's nothing we can do to help them," Fili said, grimly. "It's about to be us, the Nazgul and several thousand orcs. We have to get in the sewers before they get here."

Bilba nodded shakily and sped up, falling in beside him as they hurried down the street. Fili was right, even if they went back there was nothing they'd be able to do to help the retreat. Remembering her resolve to focus on her path ahead, she sent up a prayer for the safety of Aragorn and his men, and then tried to set it behind her.

"What will we do once we reach the sewers?" she asked as they rounded a corner and broke into a light run, the entrance to the sewers in sight. "How do we know none of the orcs will use them, or that we won't come out the other end right into the army?"

"We're going to find a spot to hide," Fili explained, "and lay low until they've passed."

"Very low," Kili said from behind them, voice just as grim as his brother, "or we'll be very dead before we ever get near the pass."

Bilba nodded. She still had questions, and concerns, but now was not the time to voice them.

"If we're lucky, the orcs won't find the entrance on the far side of the river," Kili said as they entered the tunnel. It was low, even for someone of her and the boys' heights. There was a slight drop-off just past the entrance, with water she hoped was not too deep. She also desperately hoped it was rainwater, or somehow water leaking from the river they would be passing under, which would suggest the roof might be weak and about to cave in but, still...

Fili leapt down into the sewer, landing in the water with a splash. It only went up to about his ankles, which meant it'd be up to her calves. He held his arms up and she obediently let him help her down, wincing at the bite of cold as the water swarmed over her bare feet and instantly soaked her trousers. She could feel it leeching along the longer she stood in it and resigned herself to a journey in wet trousers, and in freezing cold water.

And in total blackness because she hadn't done _that_ enough in her lifetime. The outcome of that last trip through a dark tunnel brought a flare of heat to her face and she focused on her feet, or where they would be under the water, so the boys wouldn't see. At least she wouldn't have to worry about _that_ particular little wrinkle repeating itself. Ever. If she and Thorin both survived this and he wanted more mini-Durins running about it'd be planned, and happen properly, with her safely in Erebor and miles upon miles away from tunnels or dragons or long journeys or anything resembling a quest.

Fili started sloshing through water and Bilba grabbed ahold of the strap on his supply pack. He and Kili may be able to see in the dark but she had yet to pick up that, apparently extremely useful, talent

Kili landed in the water behind her and then it was nothing but an increasingly dark tunnel, water, and a smell so foul she was pretty sure it answered her question of just what was in the water they were marching through.

Perhaps it was for the best she couldn't see after all...

 


	29. Chapter 29

_Bilba stood in the Gallery of Kings. Around her the past kings of Erebor stood silent sentinel over the mountain, sharp, silent features cast in glittering gold._

_A shriek sounded and she spun, just in time to see two small boys dart through the doorway. Identical expressions of joy were directed at her before, behind them, Thorin came chasing them, an idiotic grin plastered on his face._

_Weight was suddenly settled in her arms and Biba looked down in surprise find herself holding a baby. A tug on her skirts and a little girl was there, pulling on her with one hand and pointing toward the boys and Thorin with the others._

_"Can I go play too, Amad? Can I?"_

_"Of course you can," Bilba found herself saying and, with a squeal of happiness, the little girl was off, running toward Thorin who lifted her up and tossed her into the air._

_Thorin looked happier than she'd ever seen him. He caught his daughter and settled her on his hip before reaching to take the hand of one of the twins. The other, Ash, Bilba thought, it was probably Ash, bounded in front of him as the entire group turned and began walking toward her._

_Bilba watched her family approach and a feeling of peace spread through her. With a smile on her face, Bilba hefted the baby more firmly in her arms and stepped forward to meet her family. Thorin reached to take her hand--_

A splash and a muttered swear rang out and Bilba opened her eyes. She grimaced at the feel of hard, rocky ground under her, and the prickle of dry branches poking through her clothing. They'd made it under the river and found the other end of the sewer blocked off by heavy brush and a low hanging tree. This had been perfect, as the first thing they'd seen when peering through had been rows upon rows of orcs marching across the landscape and into the city.

Bilba had felt sick but there was nothing they could do. In the end they'd settled down, Fili and Kili taking turns keeping watch. Bilba had offered to do a turn as well but they'd pointed out she was doing more than enough carrying the ring.

She could feel Kili pressed against her back, facing into the sewer to prevent her from accidentally rolling into the water while she slept. His breathing was still even and regular so she carefully pulled away from him and sat up, wincing as brush and debris caught at her hair and clothing.

"Here," Fili's voice came. "Let me."

Bilba felt his hand in her hair and obediently held still while he freed strands from the clinging bush. Once he was done, she gave her head a small shake to clear off any debris and smiled at him.

"Thank you."

Fili gave her a tired smile in response. He was leaning against the lip of the sewer, one leg, drenched from knee to boot, pulled up with his arms absently wrapped around it At Bilba's raised eyebrow he shrugged. "Drifted off. Nearly took a swim."

Bilba grimaced. "That would be awful."

He shrugged. "I don't know. The smell would be so bad it might drive off any orcs we happen to run into."

"It might drive Kili and I off too," Bilba said dryly. Already, the smell from the portions of her trousers that had been in the water was enough to rob her of her appetite.

It occurred to her that Fili was talking at almost normal volume and she frowned. She heard nothing from past the bushes and, leaning forward to peer through breaks in the branches, showed nothing but empty landscape.

"The sun is going down," Fili said. "It'll be safer to move in the dark, just in case there are any stragglers."

"All right." Distantly, a loud boom echoed through the air and she flinched in surprise.

"Trebuchets," Fili said darkly. "I saw a few of them being moved with the orcs."

Bilba's stomach dropped to her feet. "We should go now, before it's too late."

Fili sighed, dropping his head back against the stone of the sewer entrance. "There's not a thing we can do to change the outcome of that battle. It'll be decided before we ever get near Mount Doom, no matter how soon we leave."

"Oh," Bilba had been half raised up, and now dropped down again in resignation.

"They'll be all right," Fili said. "I can't see Aragorn letting a bunch of orcs stop him, same with the others. You'll see. We'll get back and they'll all be there waiting for us."

"Fatigue has made you very optimistic," Bilba said with some amusement.

"Perhaps so," Fili agreed, "or maybe it's warranted."

"Perhaps." Bilba sighed and nudged Kili. Grumbling he woke up and replaced his brother, allowing Fili to sprawl out as best he could. He was asleep almost before Kili was settled. The two of them didn't speak much, spending their time instead watching the light dim through the breaks in the brush and trying to pretend the smell from the sewer wasn't as bad as they both knew it was.

They woke Fili once the sun was set. He doled out a ration of the water and food they'd been supplied with and then they carefully made their way out. Kili took her hand, knowing it was too dark for her to see much on her own.

The sewer came out at the very edge of the city where it lay on the far side of the river, the slopes of the Ephel Duath mountain range rising in front of them. As Bilba knelt to push her way through the growth, she unconsciously twisted around to try and look back.

It was impossible to see through the city itself but, in the distance, the sky held a faint glow and she could hear a low din, the sounds of war mixing together into a steady cacophony.

"Yavanna, protect them," Bilba whispered.

"Us too," Fili said, moving past her.

"You have Mahal," Bilba retorted, picking up her pace to keep up with him as they started walking. In the darkness, the landscape was little more than rocks she kept tripping over and shadowy trees. She imagined it looked little different than most of the other rocks and trees she'd passed, and tripped over, during her long journey. If she'd learned anything at all during this quest, and the one to take back Erebor, it was that much of the landscape was spectacularly boring and out to get her, with only brief bursts of better things, like the Shire or Lothlorien, to break up the monotony.

They didn't speak as they traveled. They'd waited for night to fall to avoid detection, but it went both ways and the last thing they wanted was to alert something to their presence by talking.

Bilba noticed when the ground began to grow rockier and more jagged. She was grateful she'd thought to request sturdy boots before leaving Gondor. Her feet were designed for the rolling plains of Shire, or even the open fields that lay outside. No one was prepared for the razor-sharp rocks and brittle shale that comprised Mordor.  

Before long, a dull glow caught her attention, slowly growing closer until it resolved into a city spread out before them.

Minas Morgul, once a city of light and peace, now horribly corrupted by darkness and vile things. The towers and peaks of the city all glowed with the same unnatural, pale light, giving it an unearthly look. She had no idea what caused it and felt she probably didn't want to know. Before the city lay a wide bridge, crossing a stream filled with foul smelling, brackish water.

As they neared, she unconsciously tensed, expecting the ring to use the presence of so much evil to strike at her. To her surprise, it remained quiet, as it had for some time now. The weight around her neck was still increasing and she had a headache, as if claws were picking at the corners of her mind, but the attacks it had been throwing at her of late were strangely absent.

It worried her, oddly enough. It wasn't that she wanted the attacks, but the sudden lack made her wonder what the ring was planning. That it had a will of its own was abundantly clear and she very much doubted it was simply not bothering to do anything anymore. It was biding its time, for what she didn't know but it couldn't possibly be good.

"Over here," Fili said suddenly, pointing toward the rock wall.

Bilba frowned. In the dim light of the city she could see that the rock appeared to go upward at a sharp angle with no apparent breaks or openings. "Where? I thought there was supposed to be stairs."

Kili gave her a nervous look but neither of them said anything. A bad sign. Wordlessly, Bilba followed them over to the wall, only to come to a dead stop as the rock finally came into clear focus.

There were cuts in the rock shaped into narrow slabs, jagged, misaligned and many cracked or broken. They led upward until they were well out of sight, promising death or serious injury to any foolish enough to attempt to climb them.

"Those are not stairs," Bilba breathed in horror. "That is a ladder, and a poor one at that."

"We have no choice," Fili replied shortly. "It's the only way."

"I'll go last," Kili said helpfully. "If you start to fall I'll catch you."

And then they'd both go down, Bilba thought dourly. She took a deep breath, her mouth suddenly dry. Her stomach knotted inside her and she could feel herself starting to shake from fear at the thought of going up that high.

"Come on," Fili said, with compassion, taking her hand. "Faster we start the sooner it's over with."

"One way or the other," Bilba muttered darkly.

Fili grabbed the first of the stairs and started to pull himself up. As he did, Bilba noticed the slabs were angled enough that she should at least be able to crawl, little consolation.

She stood at the base and watched as Fili moved upward for several minutes, trying to convince her legs to work. Finally, Kili grabbed her arms lightly and physically put them on the stone before kneeling and giving her a lift, forcing her to start whether she wanted to or not.

She most decidedly did not.

Bilba fixed her eyes on Fili, tried her best to not hold her breath, and started to climb.

It was pure torture. The ring could have pulled out all the stops and launched a full attack on her and she probably wouldn't have noticed. She could hear her heartbeat thudding in her ears and her breathing was ragged and uneven, occasionally bringing spots of dizziness as she climbed.

It felt like an eternity before they reached a ledge that opened into a narrow, closed in passageway. Fili crawled in first and then leaned back out to grab her and haul her in, and then Kili.

Bilba collapsed on the floor, gasping for air as her nerves struggled to settle. Fili, bastard that he was, only allowed her a few moments before grabbing her arm and dragging her to her feet again.

"We stop too long and you'll decide to stay here," he said in response to her glare.

He was probably right, Bilba thought, but that didn't mean she had to like it. There was absolutely no light inside the passage, as opposed to outside where there'd been the light of the moon and the city below. As Kili came up beside her, Bilba wrapped an arm around his waist, hooking her fingers around the leather of his belt as an irrational fear of the two of them vanishing and leaving her alone flashed through her mind.

Kili returned the gesture and, though it was awkward, they made their way down through the passage. Unlike the so-called stairs, the slope was gentle here and the walk not unpleasant. It was long, however, and the press of pure black had her eyes unconsciously straining as they searched for any bit of light.

A laugh ran through her mind and, suddenly, a little girl darted past her. Kili gave no reaction and, given how dark she knew it was, Bilba realized her mind was playing tricks on her, giving her eyes something to see in the dark.

The small child came to a stop next to Fili and turned back to grin at her, dark hair tumbling about her shoulders and familiar eyes causing Bilba to gasp in surprise.

"Are you all right?" Kili asked in a low voice.

"Fine," Bilba breathed. The little girl was still there and now Bilba noticed her clothing, tiny boots and trousers and a heavy, fur lined jacket that reminded her of one she'd seen before on a much larger individual. Figures he'd dress his daughter just like him, she thought with affection.

The girl spun back around, darting off into the passage and Bilba had to resist the urge to call out to her. It had to be a sign, she decided, a sign everything was going to work out and she and Thorin would both survive and she'd finally have the peace and quiet she'd been longing for after the quest.

She didn't know how much longer they stayed in that passage but she did notice when the temperature started to drop. She remembered once asking if Mordor was hot or cold; it looked like she was going to find out. She shivered as the air slowly turned biting, burrowing into Kili's side and thanking Yavanna that dwarves ran so much hotter than hobbits.

"Are you all right?" Kili asked again and, this time, she answered.

"Cold." She shivered and wrapped her arms around her torso. Ahead of them, she heard movement from Fili and then the thick coat he'd been wearing was draped over her, still heated from where it had been in contact with his body. Bilba gave a sigh of relief and stopped long enough to slide her pack off and pull the coat on properly, belting it around her. It was awkward as she refused to entirely let go of Kili but she got it done and soon curled up against his side again. "Thank you."

They continued and, soon enough, the darkness began to lift little by little. Not entirely, they hadn't been in the passage long enough for daybreak, but enough she could at least see.

She kind of wished she couldn't

As they reached the end of the passage, Bilba found herself facing another set of stairs. This one, at least, had the decency to be stairs instead of a poorly named ladder, but there was where the distinction ended. The slabs of stone were every bit as uneven and crooked as they had been down below and, even from where she stood, Bilba could see broken bits and pieces and even entire chunks missing at points.

And that wasn't even the worst part.

"Of course there are no railings," she mumbled. "You'd think I'd just expect that by now."

"Especially here," Kili said. "Imagine if Mordor had railings and the rest of us didn't?"

"You would look poorly," Bilba admitted tiredly. The act of nearly dragging herself up the mountainside, combined with the walk through the passage had drained her and she couldn't help the outright pleading look she shot toward Fili. Going up the first set of stairs, she'd at least been able to keep her eyes focused up. Turning to look over her shoulder would have taken quite the effort and wouldn't have been something she could have accomplished without effort.

With this next set, the drop off would be ever on her right side, out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't imagine how high up they must be, but doubted she was going to be able to handle it in anything resembling a calm and rational manner.

"All right," Fili nodded to the opening of the passage just before the stairs started. "We'll rest here until the sun rises. We're high enough I doubt we could be seen from below and the cliff juts out far enough to hide us from above." He frowned, studying the stairs. "It's going to be dangerous enough without adding darkness into it."

"Not helpful," Bilba muttered. She let go of Kili and started to sit down only to frown and stop as Fili gestured to her. He reached for the jacket and she let him have it, though not without a betrayed look, much to his amusement. It didn't last, however, as he proceeded to pull the coat on, sat down, pulled her down to sit between his knees with her back against his chest, and belted the coat around her. Immediately, heat radiated through her, and Bilba sighed in relief, settling back with her head against his shoulder.

Fili passed out some of the rations as they waited and Bilba pushed a hand out the top of the coat to accept them. When she did, she was startled to see her hands were cut and scraped, and nearly rubbed raw in places by her climb up the rocks. Fili and Kili had similar injuries, but not as bad as hers. Dwarves, after all, were designed to work with stone and it wouldn't be very effective if their skin was too weak to handle it.

The piece of bread Fili gave her was pitifully small, and her stomach grumbled in protest, but Bilba kept her peace. They'd packed as much as they each could carry but had no idea how long the trip to Mount Doom would take, much less the return trek, meaning they had to be as conservative with their supplies as possible.

Past Fili's shoulder, just on the first steps of the winding stairs, the little girl appeared again. The faint sound of a baby crying rang out and the girl's head jerked around before she bounded off, running easily along the stairs until she vanished around the corner and was lost to sight.

"Lily," Bilba blurted.

Fili and Kili frowned at her before Fili said, "what?"

"Lily," Bilba repeated, with greater assurance. "That's what I'm going to name my daughter, if Thorin and I have one."

Both boys froze, the look in Kili's eyes stricken, and Bilba fought back a flinch. "What? Weren't you both big on the optimism front? I was just thinking..." she hesitated, before forging on, "if Thorin and I both made it..."

"It's not that," Kili cut in quickly. "It's just that--"

"Kili." Fili's voice was sharp. Kili snapped his mouth shut with an audible click of his jaw. Bilba's eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion.

"What?"

"Nothing," Fili said, a little too quick. "It's fine."

"It's clearly not fine," Bilba countered. "So why don't you just tell me already?"

Fili hesitated, and Bilba saw Kili give him another stricken look.

"It's just," Fili started finally, "we thought... back in Rivendell..."

He stopped and Kili, after a hesitation of his own, continued. "After you had Ash and Frerin... the elves..."

Memory crashed back in like a bucket of ice water dumped over her and Bilba sucked in a harsh breath. Her eyes went wide and the piece of bread she'd been holding in her hand tumbled to the dirt below. "I can't have more children," she whispered. "They said I can't have more. How could I have forgotten that?"

What's more, she thought with a growing sense of horror, had she ever told Thorin? Given him the chance to know that, if he tied himself to her, he'd be destined to lose her early, and without the chance of ever having another child?

"He won't care," Fili said, reading her mind the way he and Kili had both picked up over long hours spent entirely in one another's company. "You've already given him Ash and Frerin but, knowing him, he'd have been just as content had it only been you."

Kili nodded in sage agreement and Bilba forced a shaky smile. Fili handed her a new piece of bread they probably couldn't afford to use and she accepted it, mentally kicking herself for having dropped the first one.

They returned to silence after that. Fili and Kili did their whole entire silent communication thing while Bilba focused on the food in her hand and tried desperately to ignore the gaze of a little girl she'd never had, and never would.

***

This far in, the sun didn't rise past the thick layer of clouds, and whatever else, that lay over Mordor, so the only way they knew day had arrived was a vague lightening of their surroundings, as if they existed in a perpetual twilight.

They blindfolded her for the rest of the trip on the stairs. Bilba barely took a step out when her traitorous eyes looked, entirely on their own, at the drop immediately to her right.

The very, very _long_ drop.

She'd frozen, so completely and entirely that Sauron himself could have come strolling down the path and she'd have been incapable of so much as taking a step to try and escape him.

It had been Fili who'd come up with the idea, knotting a handkerchief around her eyes and then guiding both her hands to wrap around his belt. He'd led the way, while Kili had come up so close behind her she could feel his feet occasionally clipping hers. They'd moved slowly, with Kili touching her arms and lightly guiding her around weak or broken patches. Twice, Kili pulled her away from Fili to lift her off her feet and hand her across to him on the other side of whatever opening in the rock they'd found.

The mere thought of the length of the drop they were lifting her over was enough to render her near catatonic again and Bilba knew dwelling on it for too long would incapacitate her just as readily, if a little slower.

So, she did her best to focus on something else, _anything_ else. She thought about the Shire, her boys, Thorin, all her friends and family. She went back through the quest in her mind, trying to picture other ways things could have gone, for better or for worse.

She couldn't stop the images of the little girl, Lily, or the baby whose cry, or laughter, would echo through her mind. Sometimes they were with her in the Shire, other times in Erebor. Between memories of her sons and Thorin, she'd see ones she knew weren't real. Ash and Frerin playing with their father, Lily sitting on her father's lap at a council meeting, Fili carrying the baby about the same way he'd done with Frerin almost since the boy had been born.

Bilba didn't know where the images were coming from, or why, but after a while she decided to simply accept them. They were happy, and peaceful, and the hollowness of knowing two of the children she envisioned weren't real, and never would be, only came when she bothered to remember it.  

Ahead of her, Fili came to a stop and then she felt Kili's hands reaching up to pull the blindfold off. Bilba blinked, and found herself looking at the opening of a large tunnel, several times bigger than the passageway they'd gone through, and far more foreboding. From where she stood she could hear the drip of water from inside and see slick puddles and wet patches on the walls and floors.

Her eyes caught on a suspicious looking substance clinging to one side of the tunnel opening and her heart dropped. "Please tell me that's not a spider web."

"That's not a spider web," Fili lied.

"Damn," Bilba whispered, in resignation. "I was really hoping to get through the rest of my life without seeing another one of those guys."

"Maybe we'll be in luck," Kili broke in, "and it'll only be one."

"We're never that lucky," Bilba muttered, remembering the swarms of spiders in Mirkwood with a shudder. She drew her sword, waiting as Fili drew his and Kili nocked an arrow to the string of his bow. "Let's get this over with quickly," she suggested. "Maybe we can get through without them noticing us."

Fili gave her a dry look. "What was that you were saying about luck?"

Bilba sighed and tightened her grip on the weapon. "Let's just get it over with then."

Fili nodded and the three of them slowly made their way inside. It was just as awful inside as it had promised outside: dark, dank and creepy. The farther they got from the entrance, the less light filtered through, until she was forced to rely entirely on Fili and Kili for guidance. At one point her mind went to the phial Galadriel had given her in Lothlorien but had, rather unhelpfully, never shown her how to use. She'd tried a time or two, as had the boys and even Thorin, but nothing had ever happened and she hadn't thought twice about leaving the useless item back in Gondor. She vaguely wished she hadn't now. It was unlikely she'd have been able to make it work but at least it'd have given her the false hope of trying.

"There's a torch over there," Kili suddenly hissed. "What do you think?"

Fili hesitated, only to stop suddenly as his foot connected with something on the ground and they heard a sharp clatter. Bilba looked down and, in the dim light that was left, bit back a whimper at the sight of bones scattered about the floor. Following some of them she slowly began to realize the floor was littered with bones, dozens upon dozens, everywhere she looked. Lifting her gaze, she spotted a tunnel leading away from them. It was hard to make out but she had the faint impression of objects hanging from the ceiling. She'd seen objects like that before, in Mirkwood hanging from the branches of trees.

"Get it," Fili ordered. "Spiders are afraid of fire, right? I'd rather be caught with it than risk running into them without."

Kili obeyed, and Fili pulled out his flint kit to light the thing. He carried it after that, allowing Kili to keep his hands free to keep his bow at the ready.

Looking back on it later, Bilba would wonder about the wisdom of taking that torch.

Certainly things would have gone much differently but would it have been for the better, or worse?

Either way, at the time, they'd taken the torch believing they would be facing a swarm of spiders like they'd seen in Mirkwood. There'd be no way to take them all on their own so having something that would allow them to drive the swarm back was vitally important.

So, to that end, Bilba could not fault the rationale.

They'd thought they knew what they would be facing.

 

They had been very, very wrong.

 

It was toward the end of their journey. There were many different tunnels and possible routes, so they'd done the best they could and chosen to avoid the openings that featured things hanging from the ceiling, or large piles of bones or other, foul smelling things. It seemed to work for, as they rounded a corner, Bilba spotted a pale light beckoning in the distance. She heaved a sigh of relief, something inside her easing at the thought they might have made it through without complication for once.

 

She really should have known better.

 

She was vaguely aware of a large shadow that seemed somehow blacker than the rest. A foul odor, like something rotting and dead, came from it and she instinctively shied away.

They almost made it.

They were almost past the shadow, eyes fixed on that glowing spot of light, when Bilba caught the flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. She turned, and stopped breathing.

The shadow, the _entire_ shadow, was moving. Vaguely, she was aware of Fili and Kili stopping as well. Fili swore and placed himself in front of her, followed a second later by Kili.

In the flickering light of the torch the thing unfurled, and Bilba bit back a whimper as she found herself looking at the biggest spider she'd ever seen.

Clearly, her mind hysterically informed her, Things in Middle Earth That Want to Eat You was going to need an update.

Fili backed up as the thing loomed over them, venom dripping from monstrous fangs. It was so big, and so _close_ , it blocked out the entire world. Eyes so large she could see her reflection mirrored in a thousand facets glittered at her with a cold light.

"Run!" Fili ordered, physically shoving her back as he raised his sword. Next to him, Kili loosed an arrow that struck the thing right in one of its eyes. The creature screeched and skittered back, but didn't retreat.

"Run!" Fili ordered again.

Bilba shook her head, feet rooted to the floor. She was finding it impossible to take deep breaths and her body was shaking so violently she could hardly stand upright. "I can't!"

The spider came forward again, only to dodge back once more as Fili swiped at it with the torch. It didn't like fire but it was clear the small torch was never going to hold it back for long.  

Fili swore, turned to grab her arm and physically shoved her, hard enough to send her to the floor several feet away. "You have to," he growled. "Go! We'll hold it off!"

And find you after, Bilba thought, desperately wanting him to say the words.

Fili turned back, and lunged forward at the creature. Kili fell to one knee, nocking another arrow to the string.

Bilba let out a sound that was nearly a sob, and ran.

She didn't look back, too terrified of what she might see. Her breathing was harsh in her lungs and she bit back a near scream of fear as the spider shrieked again behind her. There was no way to know if Fili and Kili were still holding it, or if...

She stumbled, tripping over an uneven patch in the rock. Pain spiked through her knees and hands as she caught herself and then she was pushing up again, nearly throwing herself at the opening.

That proved to be a mistake.

She was so blinded by panic, Bilba completely failed to see that the light was hazy and dull because the entire opening was covered in thick layers of spider webs.

She ran full into them, and let out a near scream of frustration as her sword was ripped from her hands by the sticky strands. The web wrapped around her, bringing back flashbacks of Mirkwood. The sheer terror of that thing behind her had her tearing at the strands in a blind panic, ripping chunks and pieces off and fighting so hard to move forward she felt several sharp stabs of pain as muscles, tendons and ligaments protested the reckless movement.

Suddenly, the last strands gave way and then she was falling, hitting a rocky slope hard enough to knock the wind from her, and rolling. She came to a stop mere inches from a gap in the rock, and curled in on herself, gasping for breath and near sobbing from fear.

 

She didn't know how long she lay there.

 

Long enough to realize the spider didn't seem to be coming.

And neither was Fili or Kili.

"I can't," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as fresh tears threatened. "I can't do it. Not by myself."

_Then your friends fight for nothing._

Bilba flinched. It had been a long time since she had heard that voice inside her head. She'd grown used to it, and long ago stopped questioning it. It had guided her to the Rangers all those years ago, shouted at her to call her friends when she thought them long gone.

Glorfindel's face flashed through her mind as he faced off against his worst fear in Moria, and then Gandalf as he led the way toward Rohan. Aragorn as he, even then, fought to save Gondor, and Thorin who struggled to ensure the survival of a kingdom he'd nearly died to reclaim.

And, of course, Adalgrim who, all things considered, shouldn't have been there in the first place but had come anyway, wishing to do his part to save his home and family.

The others flashed through, people who'd gone with her and those she'd left behind, all doing their part.

All expecting her to do hers.

Bilba opened her eyes.

A hand was stretched out in front of her face and for one, wildly irrational, moment she thought it was Thorin, arriving as he always did at the very moment she needed him most.

Then reality set in and she realized the hand was much too slender and, past it, were a small set of boots and trousers and a tiny blue jacket.

She raised her eyes, and saw tumbling brown hair falling over the shoulders of a girl with her father's eyes.

"You are not real," she whispered, and got a bright smile in response.

The hand was still there and, not knowing why, Bilba reached out. The grip felt surprisingly real, a fact she chose not to think about, and she didn't resist the tug as she was pulled up.

She blinked, and then she was on her feet...and alone.

The memory of the voice, with her longer than almost anyone she knew, ran through her mind again and something inside her settled, just a little.

Perhaps not so very alone after all.

She risked a glance back, but the way behind her was empty. She still wore Fili's jacket and clutched it around her, knowing full well the boys would demand that she keep moving if they were there. Her minds went to her friends again, her loved ones, and her infant sons who deserved a chance to grow up. There was too much at stake too many people relying on her for her to sit and wait for people who might...she swallowed hard, shut her eyes a second and forced herself to take a deep breath.

No, she told herself firmly. Fili and Kili were coming. She'd start, and they'd catch up with her.

With that conviction in mind, she fixed her eyes ahead of her, and started walking.

The gap in the rocks she'd landed near was narrow, thankfully, and she was able to hop over it without having to look down to see how deep it went. She moved slowly along the path after that, not wanting to go too fast until Fili and Kili caught up.

Rocks tumbled to the ground in front of her and she stopped with a frown. The path she walked led through a narrow gully, a fact she'd been grateful for as it meant she didn't have to see how very high she undoubtedly was. Now, however, she realized it left her at an entirely new risk, nowhere to go in the event of rocks falling.

She glanced up, but saw nothing so, after a second, she started to walk again. After only a few steps an odd skittering sound drew her gaze upwards again but, still, she saw nothing.

She hesitated and increased her speed, though not by much as she was still desperately hoping for Fili and Kili to catch up to her. The thought of one or both being hurt, and stuck alone because she was moving too fast, was haunting.

Ahead of her, the path widened into a wide bowl-shaped area with sheer rock rising around her. On the far side, the path resumed, passing under a large archway of rock but, thankfully, remaining open overhead. Bilba very much did not want to find herself facing another tunnel again, if ever.

She hurried forward, a strong feeling of unease overcoming her at being so exposed. She'd just reached the opening when a shadow crossed the sun overhead, darkening her path.

Bilba stopped.

There were clouds overhead, her mind informed her.

There was no sun, so then what--

"Look out!"

A heavy body slammed into hers, sending her flying. Bilba hit the ground hard, pain ricocheting through her body as she landed on her side.

She pushed up and looked behind her, just in time to see the spider, hanging from the archway, drive a stinger that looked to be bigger than her arm, straight into Fili's back.

Fili's back arched, eyes going wide with shock.

"Fili!" Bilba screamed, scrambling to her feet.

For a second Fili's eyes locked with hers. Then they rolled back and he slumped to the ground with a boneless thud.

And then the only one left was her.

And the spider.

 

 

 


	30. Chapter 30

The spider hunched over Fili, faceted eyes seemingly fixed on Bilba. She, in turn, found herself frozen, unable to so much as draw a breath into her terror-locked lungs.

Then, dismissing her as casually one might a gnat, the thing gathered Fili up in its long, spindly legs, and began to spin him. For a brief second the action was woefully confusing, until Bilba noticed a sticky webbing, like what she'd seen in the cave, slowly enveloping her friend,

"Oh," she breathed, eyes wide, "don't you dare."

Her hand went to her side, only to remember belatedly, and with horror, that she'd lost her sword in the mad dash to escape the cave. She swallowed past a dry throat, hand clenching and unclenching at her side as she watched the spider wrap Fili.

Could he breathe like that? Was he even--?

No, her mind shied away from that thought.

Fili was alive.

He was alive and she _damn_ well wasn't going to stand there and watch that _thing_ kill him.

She'd already stood and watched helplessly as a monster killed her brother.

She had no desire to do it again.

Not _ever_ again.

Dragging in a choked sound that was very close to a whimper and not at all the Thorin-esque roar she'd been trying to emulate, Bilba crouched and carefully pulled the boot knife Fili had foisted on her from the sheath strapped to her leg.

She straightened and, in a choked voice barely louder than a whisper, said, "Hey."

The spider, naturally, ignored her completely.

Bilba made a strangled sound, clutching the dagger as tight as she could lest the violent shaking of her hand jar it free. "Hey!"

The spider paused, mid roll, Fili dangling from its legs.

Bilba wasn't sure what gave her the strength to move forward. It certainly wasn't anything she possessed. She was terrified of spiders. If it came down to it she'd much rather go over that idiotic walkway thing into Lake-town, by herself, and spend a weekend in the Valar forsaken town that some idiot thought to build on a bloody lake than face down a spider of obscene proportions.

In some small part of her mind she imagined her brother and parents silently watching her. She'd often wondered how things might have gone differently all those years ago if she'd done _something._ Anything.

She could barely see Fili anymore under the webbing. Bilba gritted her teeth until her jaw ached and then, before her mind could think about it enough to tell her how insane this was, she darted forward and slashed at one of the creature's legs. The tiny blade did little damage but it did cause the spider to shriek in anger and drop Fili on the ground with a thud. The eyes were back on her and Bilba had a brief second to register that a few of the facets in one giant orb were dark. She'd also noted earlier the thing was slightly favoring one leg, and a dark sheen of what might have been the thing's blood coated the limb.

Score one for Fili and Kili.

Then a leg was coming at her lightning fast and she had no more time to contemplate. Bilba barely had time to register it before it slapped her in the chest with all the force of a tree branch. Then the world was spinning and she was flying. She slammed into dirt and rolled, finally fetching up against the rock wall of the small grotto.

Her chest was on fire where the thing had hit her and her lungs had seized up in her chest. She managed to push up on her knees and one hand, the other pressed to her chest. She tried to inhale, only to hear an awful wheeze as her frozen lungs refused to inflate. She was vaguely aware the weight of her pack was no longer resting on her back and shoulders but, at the moment, that was the least of her worries.

At least now she knew what would have happened had she tried anything all those years ago.

She heard a screech and felt her heart jolt in panic at the sight of the massive spider rushing at her. The dagger was no longer in her hand as she'd seemingly become incapable of holding onto a weapon since entering Mordor, and she hadn't thought to bring any others with her.

If she got out of this, she was turning into Fili when it came to weapons.

Her lungs helpfully loosened, finally, and she inhaled sharply, spots dancing in front of her eyes. Just as the spider reached her, she lunged forward. She hit the ground in a somersault and rolled under the thing as it passed over. In a stroke of good fortune, the spider had been so focused on her it failed to check its speed, or see how close the wall was. It slammed into the rock, and fell into a dazed tangle of legs.

Bilba, who'd come up behind it, sprang to her feet, and promptly stumbled as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She went to one knee for a brief second, but forced herself forward in a stumbling movement that was more half falling than running. The last thing she wanted to do was waste the moment she'd been given. If she could just get to Fili and...and do _something_.

She bolted toward him and collapsed to the ground next to him. She tried to grab his shoulders but the webbing was thick and her hands refused to penetrate. A quick glance around showed no sign of her dagger, lost somewhere on the craggy rock, and there was no chance she'd be getting at any of Fili's weapons.

On the far side, the spider was regaining its legs and she was rapidly running out of time. Frantically, she shook Fili, hoping by some miracle he might wake up and somehow be able to save himself.

"Fili?" The spider was turning toward her, and she choked as her entire body froze in fear. "Fili!"

She shook him harder, and then grabbed at the webbing over his face, breath coming in hard gasps. With a wrench born of pure desperation and adrenaline, she managed to rip the thick threads over his face...and promptly froze in horror.

Fili's eyes were open.

Open...and fixed. They stared at nothing, pupils dilated and empty.

"No," Bilba whispered. Her vision blurred and darkness swam over her vision. "Please, oh please, no."

The spider shrieked in rage and whipped around, but apparently it was as dazed as she was and promptly stumbled and went back down again.

Bilba shook Fili's shoulder. "Wake up," she demanded, tears now spilling openly down her face. "Damn it, Fili, don't you do this to me. Wake _up_!"

A new noise caught her attention and, for one wild minute, she thought it was Kili. In her mind, she saw him heroically arriving, complete with weapons, just in time to send an arrow into the stupid spider. He would stride over and order his brother to wake up and Fili would obey because he always listened to his brother and they would continue and it would be _fine_.

It would be _fine_ because she'd lost so much, and so many, already and surely she wasn't about to lose someone else

The noise came again, and now it was obvious it was the noise of footsteps on stone and a wild surge of hope shot through her, even as she watched the spider stagger to its feet and move back toward her.

And then she realized the sound she was hearing was more than one set of footsteps, and it was coming from the wrong direction...

She scrambled up wrapped her fingers around the webbing at Fili's shoulders, set her feet and pulled as hard as she could. She had no idea where she planned to go, or what she planned to do once she got there, she just knew danger was coming from two directions and they needed to _go_.

Fili's body didn't move. The spider was coming right at her and the footsteps were coming from the other direction and Fili's eyes were still staring at nothing and they had to go but he wasn't _moving_.

With a sob so harsh it was physically painful she released him and scrambled back just as the spider reached her. She rushed forward, planning to roll under the creature's body again, but it proved to be smarter than she'd expected. Before she could complete the maneuver, the spider twisted and a leg came down directly in front of her.

Bilba barely managed to wrench to a stop before it hit her. She twisted, lost her balance and hit the ground only to immediately scramble away on all fours, the spider right on her heels. From the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of a section of wall that had suffered a collapse at some point, leaving a slope and jagged bits of rubble and stone strewn about.

Air rushed over her head and she threw herself to the side just in time to miss a leg slamming into the ground where she'd just been. She went into a roll before leaping up and sprinting forward again toward that collapsed section of wall. Her lungs were burning, legs shaking with fatigue and she was running so fast she was at risk of losing her balance and falling any second.

Something on the ground caught her attention and she sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her dagger. Taking a risk, she altered her course, and flung herself forward. She snatched the dagger, somehow managed to shove it back in its sheath without cutting her own leg off, and resuming her flight toward the wall.

Just as she reached the rocks, a blow hit her in the back and sent her flying forward. She slammed into the rocks and the spider was on top of her. Bilba kicked at its eyes as it pushed her up, actually lifting her into the air and along the wall in its attempts to get its fangs in range. She managed to catch its eyes with a foot and it shrieked again and lunged at her. Bilba felt the sharp edges of stone behind her and twisted around, grabbing rocks and pulling herself higher and just out of the snapping fangs of the spider. Stone tore into her hands, sending sharp stabs of pain radiating along her palms, and the rest of her hurt in a way that promised some spectacular bruises if she survived long enough for them to develop.

She pulled herself between two stones and collapsed on a relatively flat ledge just behind them. A leg appeared over the top and she stiffened but, then, just as quickly, it vanished again. She heard the spider scrambling down and then caught the unmistakable sound of orcs from the far side of the trail.

Breathing hard and shaking with exhaustion, Bilba got up and crept forward to peek through a crack in the stones. On the far side, she watched with horror as a group of well over a dozen orcs, with torches in hands, used the flames to drive the spider back. It retreated to a corner and crouched down, watching them balefully.

Several of the orcs stayed near the creature, making sure it stayed down, while the rest gathered around Fili. Bilba gave a whimper, body tensing as she watched them poke and prod at him. The image of his fixed eyes had her own eyes filling again and she wiped at her face frantically as she watched the scene.

She felt a bone deep pain, one she hadn't felt in a very long time. Losing Adalgrim had hurt, accepting she might never see her sons or Thorin again had been excruciating, but this... _this_ was like losing her brother and parents all over again.

Fili was like her _brother_. He and Kili both and she'd left them behind because she'd known that was what they would have wanted but she'd never believed she was leaving them for good. Maybe her mind had thought it, but not her heart.

Never her heart. She'd believed, _truly_ believed they were behind her, rushing to catch up and she'd been _right,_ at least with Fili, and she still believed with Kili. She'd been right and if she'd been right then...then now...

The emptiness in his eyes ran through her mind again and she shook her head violently, as if to physically dislodge the memory.  

Yavanna, it _hurt_. It hurt worse than anything and suddenly she was crying so hard that _that_ hurt, to where she desperately wished she could stop but her body refused to listen so all she had left to her was to endure.

She was so damn _tired_ of always having to endure.

She expected an attack by the ring, but it stayed quiet, perhaps realizing there was no pain it could inflict on her that was worse than what she already felt. One of the orcs knelt by Fili, prodding at him with something and she grabbed at the fabric over her heart as the pain in it became so bad she felt it might give out entirely. Her head was pounding with the promise of a spectacular headache and her entire body ached from the beating she'd taken.

The orcs were speaking but they were too far away for her to hear what they were saying. Silver glittered as an orc picked up Fili's sword from where it had fallen, and she mentally cursed at not having thought to look for it. It probably wouldn't have made much difference but at least she wouldn't have been attacking the spider with what amounted to a glorified hatpin.

Four of the orcs knelt suddenly, and then they were lifting Fili and Bilba let out a groan. "No," she whispered. "Please don't take him."

The orcs headed back up the trail. The ones left behind waited a few minutes to make sure the spider wasn't going to come after them, and then followed.

Then they were gone, and all Bilba could do was watch.

The spider began to unfurl and Bilba shuddered and got up shakily. She turned and grabbed the rocks behind her, pulling herself up as best she could, and gritting her teeth as her muscles screamed at her in protest.

She heard exactly when the spider arrived below her, skittering up the rocks and swiping at her. She'd hoped to move past where it could climb on the uneven stone but had failed to consider how long those damn legs were.

One struck her and knocked her hands loose, sending her falling backward with a gasp and a jolt in her chest as her heart lurched in fear. She barely twisted in time and got her feet up. She shoved a foot in its eye and then fell forward, scrambling over its head and sliding down its back. Through some miracle, she yanked her dagger from its sheath. She flipped onto her stomach, drove it into the creature's back as deep as she could, and hung on.

The spider screamed in a mix of rage and pain and threw itself back off the rocks. It twisted, bucking against the sharp stick in its back. Bilba clenched her jaw and held on, desperately trying to work the dagger in a slashing motion. She doubted she could kill the thing with such a small blade but hoped perhaps she could at least convince the beast she wasn't worth the trouble.

Black ichor spurted out from the wound, making her hands slippery and her fall inevitable. The spider gave a wrench, twisting to the side, and then Bilba's hands were no longer clutching the dagger.

She slammed into the ground for what felt like the millionth time, rolled and came to a rest on her stomach. There were rocks under her, putting pressure on her injuries, and she grimaced. She reached under her and tried to push them away, but they refused to move.

They also didn't feel much like rocks.

A painfully familiar _thwip_ came from over her head and the spider shrieked in pain. Several more sounds followed the first, along with the clear thunk of them hitting home.

Bilba lifted her head enough to see a pair of boots under her chest, leading to a pair of legs clad in familiar trousers.

A shadow fell over her, and a hand was suddenly on her waist. At the same time, a bow was placed on the ground near her head, along with a quiver nearly empty of arrows. Bilba looked for the spider and saw it, whimpering and scuttling in pain, vanish through a cleft into the rock. She turned her head then, to take in what she was convinced was one of the most welcome sights she had ever seen.  

"Sorry, I'm late," Kili said, eyes tight with concern. "Are you okay?"

 

 


	31. Chapter 31

If they survived this, Kili had no doubt tales would be told of the fearless hobbit and her dwarven companions who carried the ring of Sauron to its final fate in the fires of Mount Doom.

He fully expected he would hear of their bravery, courage and determination.

He did _not_ expect that they would sing of his getting lost while running from a massive spider, because he had absolutely no plans of ever telling anyone.

_Ever._

For the love of Durin, not even his uncle got lost _inside_ a mountain. Only outside where the natural sense of direction Mahal had gifted the dwarves with no longer worked. No, leave it to _him_ to get lost inside, surrounded by stone, when he should have been able to navigate it with his eyes closed.

He officially had a poorer sense of direction than his uncle, and naturally it had chosen the worst time to assert itself.

It had gone well at first. He and Fili had both landed some solid blows on the foul creature before realizing the thing was simply too big, and their fighting quarters too narrow and cramped, to give them the edge they needed to win.

Fili had shouted for retreat and they had both broken in the direction Bilba had gone, hoping to meet up with her again.

Well, correction, Kili had _tried_ to break in the direction Bilba had gone. The idiot spider had unfortunately been in the way, legs blocking his path as it scrambled to orient itself in the tight passage. Kili had been forced to run in another direction and, as pitiful as it sounded, he'd been far more focused the act of fleeing itself than on _where_ he was fleeing.

It got worse when he finally risked stopping, only to realize the thing wasn't chasing him, and apparently never had been. It had chosen to go after Fili, and possibly Bilba, instead.

Even the Mahal damned spider knew he wasn't worth it.

Pathetic.

The spare indeed, and not even a particularly good one. He hated that his family treated him like he was incompetent, but what he hated even more was that they had cause to do so.

He'd found his way out eventually, recovering Bilba's sword along the way. The sight of it sent a chill through him and he picked up the pace, hoping to catch up with her and his brother. He had no doubt Fili was already out by then, probably waiting on him to show up and wondering if he'd need to come back and lead him out by the hand like the child they thought he was.

Like the child he might actually be.

Mahal, but he was _angry_. At himself, at never being given a chance to prove himself, at never having been worthy of a chance.

It was the sound of that damn spider, coming from _ahead_ of him that had him breaking into a full out run. He bolted out into an area where the path he'd been walking widened into an almost bowl like space, just in time to see the spider sending Bilba flying like a gnat flicked off a giant.

It was a sight he was sure would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

His body was moving before his mind was done processing what he was seeing. His hands, by instinct, threw her sword down to draw his bow off his shoulder. He had an arrow nocked to the string just before she landed.

He was gratified he'd managed to correctly judge where she'd hit. Her body caught up against his legs and he braced himself to stop her forward momentum. By then, he had his arrow up and was sending nearly all the arrows he had left at the spider. The greater distance and better lighting allowed him to improve his accuracy. Several of the arrows struck home and the bastard thing shrieked in pain and retreated.

Keeping an eye on it, Kili knelt to help Bilba who'd been struggling to a kneeling position. The spider, making whimpering sounds and scuttling in a way that suggested he'd struck a serious blow, vanished into some hole or another, hopefully never to return.

Confident it was now gone, Kili turned his attention to Bilba, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

She looked battered and bruised, and he dearly hoped that was as far as the injuries extended. "Sorry, I'm late," he said tensely, "Are you all right?"

For a few seconds, she simply stared at him and he began to worry she'd struck her head when she'd landed, or before he'd arrived. Then, before he could ask, she suddenly lunged at him. Kili tensed in surprise, only to relax as she threw her arms around his neck and collapsed against him. Her grip tightened and then one of her hands vanished from around his neck to wind up under his arm, fingers digging into the muscles of his back.

He felt her shudder, pressing even closer, and he immediately returned the embrace. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe now."

He frowned, looking past her. "Where's Fili?"

Bilba stiffened in his arms and then jerked back to look at him. Her eyes were watery and panicked looking. "He --" she stammered. "He -- the spider -- and there were orcs, and I--" Her eyes went almost impossibly wide and her breathing increased, and became ragged. "I tried--"she insisted, twisting her hands into the front of his shirt. "Kili, I tried but he --" she looked over her shoulder, toward where the path restarted on the other side of the bowl. "I tried--"

Kili grabbed her shoulders, grip firm, and barked out a sharp, "Hey!"

Bilba jerked, sucked in a breath, and focused on him, eyes still wide.

"All right," Kili said, keeping his voice short and firm enough to hold her attention. "What happened?"

She told him, shakily and with a few false starts, but she got it out. As she spoke, her hands came up to wrap around his forearms where he was gripping her shoulders, fingernails digging into his arms through the sleeves of his tunic.

"His eyes were open," she said, voice wobbling. "I think -- Kili, I think--"

"He isn't dead," Kili said simply. He would know if his brother was dead. He didn't care how absurd it might sound, or that someone might accuse him of wishful thinking.

He would know if Fili was dead.

He would feel it.

He didn't; therefore, Fili wasn't dead.

Period.

The panic in Bilba's eyes eased and she took a deep breath, calming herself. Her hands were still tight on his arms but she forced a shaky smile. "Okay. What do we do?"

Kili felt a rush of adoration for her. It was this attitude of hers, treating him like an equal, not looking at him as if he were any different than his uncle or brother, that had first endeared her to him.

"Come on." He got up and held a hand out to her. "Let's go get him."

She gave him an odd look but then readily took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. "Your uncle always seems to do that," she murmured as she gained her footing. "Show up right when I need him the most with a hand out and a conviction everything is going to be all right." She gave him a more genuine smile and then let out a breath, shoulders slumping in obvious relief. "You must have inherited the trait."

A warm feeling he couldn't quite place spread through him and he smiled as he retrieved her sword to return to her. Her pack had been torn off during the fight and neither of them saw any sign of it, or wanted to waste time looking. Every second they spent here was one more the orcs had to drag Fili farther away Kili still had his own pack so they'd at least have some supplies left.

They moved as fast as they could while trying to remain quiet, and stay far enough back that they didn't round a corner and stumble on the creatures. According to Bilba, the orcs far outnumbered them. Kili didn't have enough arrows to deal with more than a handful, which meant they were going to need to think of some way to rescue Fili that didn't involve a full-frontal assault, or any assault at all for that matter.

Bilba walked along quietly beside him, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the ground. She looked exhausted, and the tightness around her jaw and stiffness in her posture betrayed the pain she was in. Several of the marks he could see on her face and through tears in her clothing would turn into truly spectacular bruises. The sight made him wish he could go back and shoot the damn spider all over again.

Aside from all that, however, her demeanor was surprisingly calm. Her breathing had slowed, the panic had left her eyes and her shoulders had lowered from where they'd been bunched around her ears.

"Why do you trust me?" Kili suddenly blurted out, only barely remembering to keep his voice low. That would be just fantastic, he thought in annoyance, if he were to give away their position because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

Bilba gave him a startled look. "Why wouldn't I?'

"No one else does," he muttered, looking away. He hadn't meant to tell her that.

"That's not true." Her voice had an oddly faraway quality and he looked back to see her gazing fixedly at a point a few yards away from them.

"Bilba?" he asked in concern. "Are you okay?"

Her footsteps slowed until she came to a stop, still staring at that spot. A strange, almost longing look entered her eyes and he saw one of her hands come up slightly as if reaching out for something.

"Bilba?" he asked again.

She jerked and shook her head sharply, before turning to look at him. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Kili hesitated. "Nothing," he said finally. "Come on, let's keep going."

She nodded and they continued in silence.

As they rounded a corner, the pass opened and straightened out, allowing them to see farther. They were heading toward a tower, Kili realized, built in such a way it was nearly hidden from sight until one was almost on top of it. As soon as he saw it, he uttered a short curse and grabbed Bilba by the arm, jerking her to the wall of the passage and pressing them both flat against it.

"Wonderful," he growled. "How much do you want to bet they've got sentries watching from the windows up there?"

Bilba chewed on her lower lip before finally saying, "They're orcs. We might get lucky."

"We're never lucky," Kili said, almost to himself. He let out a huff and said, "Okay, as close to the wall as we can, put the hood of your cloak up. If we move slow enough, and carefully, they may not notice us. If they do, hopefully they'll think we're an oddly shaped bush or stone."

He expected Bilba to point out there were no other bushes in the passageway but, instead, she simply nodded and did as he said, crouching low and pulling her hood over her head. Kili made the decision to remove his supply pack and hide it behind a stone, hoping it'd let him appear small and stand closer to the wall. They'd return for it later, hopefully.

They didn't talk much after that. She went first, with him close behind. When he thought they needed to stop or shift position, he'd touch her lightly on the hip or the lower back. Each time she stopped instantly and waited until he gave the sign for them to move again.

_"That's not true."_

Her words ran through his mind again and his jaw tightened. She didn't mean that. She'd barely even been listening and had said the words by rote, to placate him.

 _She_ trusted him. He didn't know why. He wasn't sure if she even should, but she did.

But she was the only one. When he'd gone on the quest to reclaim Erebor, his mother had dragged Fili to the side when she thought he was asleep and made his brother swear to look after him. His uncle treated him like a child and his brother acted like he was liable to wander off a cliff if he wasn't supervised. The rest of the company had behaved like he was a tagalong and to the rest of his people?

His uncle was the strong and capable leader, who'd marched to Erebor with a band of merry idiots and took back the mountain for no other reason than they were all too foolish to realize it should have been impossible.

His brother was the intelligent, witty and bright rising star who assured the line of Durin would one day pass into capable hands.

Kili was simply the spare.

Impulsive.

Immature.

Incompetent.

_"Thank Mahal we have the older one."_

He'd heard the words when he'd been small, just after he'd done something or other he shouldn't have. They'd been said by two of the nobles who served on his uncle's council. It wasn't the first time he'd heard such a sentiment, or even the worst he'd ever heard, and it certainly wasn't the last.

He'd tried as he'd grown older. He'd trained, studied, volunteered to escort caravans to show his bravery and courage. It never seemed to stop the whispers, or the lack of faith. It never seemed to convince his family that he could stand on his own two feet.

When he'd volunteered for that caravan his mother had insisted his brother go with him, unpaid, to look after him.

Kili had been hired as security, and had to bring his _brother_ to look after him.

Mahal, but it had been _humiliating_.

Bilba came to a stop so suddenly he bumped into her and nearly knocked her flat. He managed to catch her at the last second and stopped her forward momentum, holding them both in place.

They'd arrived at the base of a sharp incline. At the top sat the base of the tower, built from thick blocks of stone. It was in another bowl-shaped area, surrounded by rock on all sides, situated in the dead center with flat dirt all around it. Windows ringed it at intervals from the base all the way to the top. Directly in front of them was a set of double wooden doors, closed and barred with thick iron.

From inside he could hear the shouts and cries of many, many orcs. There was no sign they had been spotted and he doubted the orcs would bother to lay a trap for two people when they could just walk out and overwhelm them by sheer force.

"What are the odds they're holding Fili outside somewhere?" Bilba asked. "Maybe by himself and lightly guarded?"

Kili snorted. "Zero."

"Yeah," Bilba whispered. "That's what I figured."

Kili carefully made his way past her and nearly crawled up the incline and around the corner, keeping against the rock. Bilba followed and, together, they made their way to a spot on the back side of the tower, far from the door and between several ground level windows.

He couldn't see any sign of movement coming from the upper level windows. He shot a look at Bilba who simply nodded, trust in her eyes. Kili shook his head, let out a breath and whispered, "All right, here we go."

In unison, they darted out from the wall, keeping low and moving as fast as possible. They slammed into the wall of the tower and dropped down, holding as still as they could.

For several long minutes they held completely still, not even daring to breathe. Over their heads, and to both sides, they could hear the orcs in the tower but there was no sign anyone had spotted them.

Bilba raised an eyebrow and Kili nodded. Against all odds, and certainly against the sort of odds they normally had, it would seem they'd made it without being seen.

Bilba was still looking at him and Kili could practically read her mind.

So now what?

Kili studied her, and felt the that same sensation again, a strange warmth running through his veins and a desire to hold himself straighter and raise his chin the way his uncle did when he was being particularly regal. It took him a few seconds to process the feeling, and even longer to put a name to it.

Pride.  

He felt pride at the way she looked at him, at the faith she had in him.

It had been a long time since he'd felt that way, since anyone had _let_ him feel that way. He knew logically that his family loved him and didn't treat him like a child from any sense of animosity. He also knew that, if they found out how some spoke about him in Ered Luin they would handle it, fighting yet _another_ battle for him that they felt he couldn't fight for himself.

He knew all that and of course he loved his family, but that didn't mean he didn't resent it.

"You should just say something to them," Bilba whispered, and he frowned at her in confusion.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's been pretty much the three of us together, exclusively, for what, two years now? Longer? You're not that hard to read."

Kili gaped at her, but all it got him was another eye roll, which was rather unnecessary he thought.

Bilba nodded her head up, toward the windows. "What do you think?"

She was letting the rest go because it was _not_ the time or place, but Kili knew full well she wasn't going to let it go forever. She was right. They _had_ been together almost exclusively for a couple years now and she wasn't the only one who knew the other almost better than they knew themselves.

Carefully, he turned to face the wall of the tower, pressed a hand against the stone and rose just enough to allow him to peek over the windowsill. He only stayed for a brief second, long enough to get a glimpse and then drop down again. The brief sight he got was of a large, open room filled with benches, orcs, food and what he dearly hopes were tankards of ale.

He chewed on his lower lip for a minute, a bad habit he'd picked up from _someone_ who had an equally bad habit of rolling her eyes at him, and his uncle now that he thought about it. An idea presented itself and he gave her a slow grin. "Weren't you crowing about your throwing arm at some point?"

She gave him an indignant look. "Excuse me? I wasn't _crowing_ about anything. I was factually informing you about my exploits during the fighting at Erebor."

"Right," Kili teased, nodding toward the many loose stones scattered about them on the landscape. "I'm going to give you a chance to prove it."

Bilba looked blank at first, only to slowly smile herself as realized what he was planning. "You're on."

 

 

 

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

Orcs, in general, were not known for their ability to get along with, well, _anyone_ and that included other orcs. When Bilba had knelt beneath the window she'd heard a number of loud arguments from inside and they hadn't shown any hint of subsiding. Some would end and new ones would start while still others simply got louder.

Every so often, Kili would push up from where he'd been hugging the wall next to the window to peer inside. It would only be for a second, barely long enough to even see anything, but each time he'd drop back into position and shake his head at her as if he'd seen something very important in that brief second of time.

Bilba had no idea what he was waiting for, or how he could see anything, but every time she simply nodded and stayed settled where she was. A pile of small rocks sat at her feet and she could feel the grit and sharp edges of the one clutched in her hand, waiting to be used.

She'd use it when Kili told her it was time, and not before. She trusted him, more than he did apparently and, Yavanna damn it but she was having a _long_ talk with Thorin after this was all over, assuming she survived...and he survived.

Honestly, when Mahal had created the Durins had he assigned a certain amount of pride and self-confidence to be spread out along the line and it'd simply run out by the time it came to Fili and Kili? Thorin certainly didn't have the same problem, not as far as she'd been able to tell anyway. If anything, she was certain he could bottle his confidence and pride, sell it at a market for next to nothing, and still have an inordinate amount left over.

Who knows though, perhaps she wasn't being entirely fair. She'd never particularly thought of Fili as lacking in confidence until the whole Thorin-going-temporarily-insane thing and, really, who could blame him then? He'd been raised to be his uncle's heir and, when it came to it, he'd failed to be the leader the Company, and his uncle, had needed him to be.

At least, she had no doubt that's how _he_ saw it. _She_ certainly had never looked at him as having failed at anything. Thorin had been ill but he'd still been alive, and in charge. Trying to force the Company to effectively betray him could have led to the breaking of bonds that might never have been repaired. Likewise, trying to force Thorin to a certain way of thinking, or action, might have resulted in his injury, or theirs. Faced with impossible choices, Fili had chosen to withdraw and, in that decision, had shown the true sort of leader he was. One able to set aside his own pride and make the hard decisions.

A hard, and incredibly brave decision, as Bilba had assumed Fili realized, which was why she'd never commented on it.  Or noticed what he was dealing with despite being with him every single day. She'd had her own things to worry about, like being pregnant with babies she'd been convinced would grow to the size of adult hobbits before they were ready to be born, and had assumed Fili was fine. Fili was always fine, except when he wasn't because he was a person just like her and prone to the same insecurities and worries.

Yavanna, she was as bad as Thorin wasn't she?

Forget having a long talk with Thorin. Someone needed to sit her _and_ Thorin down and have a long conversation about not getting so engrossed in their own problems that they ignored the problems of those right next to them.

Better yet, maybe just a talk about _noticing_ said problems to begin with.

How was she ever going to properly raise Ash and Frerin if she couldn't see what was right in front of her face with two people she considered her brothers in all but blood?

As if the world enjoyed irony, Kili leaned up to look inside again, catching her attention and placing him literally in front of her face. Guilt rushed through her and she suppressed a sigh. She didn't blame his family for being overprotective. They'd lost so much in Erebor, and then continued to suffer after. Things in Ered Luin, from what she'd been told, had been less than ideal, and it was quite common to lose people over the winter, from cold, hunger and sickness. It was a fact she knew haunted Thorin and had been a big part of what had driven him to take so drastic a measure as going after a dragon with a small handful of incredibly dedicated dwarves.

Add to that the fact Kili's mother had already suffered the loss of her grandfather, father, brother and husband, as well as how rare and protected dwarven children already were, and of course she was overprotective of her baby. Bilba had no doubt the woman was protective of Fili as well, but there was something about the baby of the family. It might not be rational, but it was there. Even she sometimes found herself fussing over Ash a little more than Frerin, her mind somehow insisting he was smaller, or more delicate simply because he was younger.

Now that she'd seen how such treatment had affected Kili, however, she was going to do her utmost to see that she stopped it. She didn't want Ash growing up to think he was weak just because he was younger, or Frerin thinking she expected more from him because he was older. That probably explained even more why Fili had reacted so badly to Thorin exiling him. So much was seemingly expected of him as the older son, and when he felt he'd failed...

She flinched, comments both boys had made in the past crossing her mind. The truth of how they'd been feeling had been there, had she simply bothered to listen. Considering how devoted both boys had been to her, and every concern she'd ever had, it was downright shameful she hadn't seen it sooner. She remembered her assertion not so long ago that Kili wasn't so hard to read and grimaced in embarrassment. She _had_ noticed a little, but not near the depth that had been there, and certainly not enough to open her mouth and say something sooner.

Something inside her hardened and she narrowed her eyes.

Fili and Kili deserved better.

So did Ash and Frerin, and even Thorin going by how quick she'd been in the past, and just a few minutes earlier, to blame him while ignoring her own negligence.

They all deserved better and, by Yavanna, she was determined they were going to get it.

Kili hissed at her and she raised an eyebrow to see him leaning up again to peer over the ledge. Setting her musings aside for the moment, she copied his position and pushed up just enough to risk a glimpse over the windowsill.

The sheer smell coming from inside nearly knocked her off her feet, but she clenched her teeth and tried, semi-successfully, to ignore it. Kili was indicating something with a sharp jerk of his head and she saw a pair of orcs in the final throes of an argument. As she watched, one of them turned to stalk off while the other leaned back in his chair with all the arrogance of one who felt he'd won.

Kili gave a short nod toward the one leaving, and Bilba returned the gesture. She'd been leaning with her back against the wall but she carefully rolled until her stomach was pressed against the stone. She hefted the small stone in her hand, aimed, and then let it fly.

It flew true and struck the retreating orc a sharp blow in the back of the head. The rock wasn't large enough to cause serious damage, but it must have stung, both his skull and his pride. The orc gave a roar of rage and spun, focusing in on his opponent who was still seated behind him.

The orc, who apparently hadn't seen the rock, raised an eyebrow in confusion but had no chance to say anything as the orc Bilba had struck lunged at him. He slammed into the sitting orc hard enough to knock him back in the chair. The creature hit the table behind him, which rocked hard enough to tip over a mug of she-didn't-want-to know into the lap of another orc. It leapt to its feet, screaming insults at the two fighting orcs, but they were a little too preoccupied to listen.

Then, because he was an orc and they weren't exactly known for their ability to control themselves, the new orc proceeded to turn and punch a colleague who had nothing to do with anything at all. This led to a second fight, which soon caused a third due to the tightness of the space they were in, which soon led to a fourth and, before they knew it, the entire place was in a free for all.

Kili gave her a bright grin, carefully got into a kneeling position, and nocked one of his few remaining arrows to his bowstring.

Bilba frowned. "Do you think they'll notice it's not an orc arrow?" she whispered.

"Doubt it," Kili hissed back. "They're too angry to notice much of anything. Lucky us."

"You shouldn't mention luck," Bilba muttered. "If you do it might remember it's not supposed to be here."

Kili chuckled, and then quickly rose, fired, and dropped down again. Inside, a howl of pain sounded, followed by one of rage. A second later, a glimpse over the window ledge showed weapons had entered the fray, black ichor being shed liberally. Bilba grimaced and dropped down again, even as Kili rose once more to fire another arrow. That left him with two that he carefully stowed back in his quiver before reattaching it to his belt.

After that, they held still and listened to the mayhem inside. At one point, an orc was thrown over the windowsill they were hiding under but Kili, reacting instantly, had the creature's throat slit before its attacker dragged it back inside. They held still, worried the other creature might wonder how his victim came to have his throat slit but it must not have noticed or cared for it never appeared in the window.

Eventually, the noise began to die down. Kili checked again and then frowned at her. "I should have you stay here."

"Probably," Bilba agreed, "but what if the giant spider of evil shows up? Or an orc?"

Kili scowled. "Yeah." He sighed and slowly rose to his feet, next to the window, holding his bow in one hand. "You need to stay behind me, all right? And promise you'll do what I say, without question?"

Bilba's eyes narrowed. "Can I question after?"

"Sure," Kili said, eyes trained to the side as if he could see around the edge of the window and inside through strength of will.

"Deal." Bilba got her own sword out, an action that seemed to make Kili look even more agitated. Rather than say anything, however, he simply nodded at her. He then nocked one of his final two arrows to the string of his bow, and spun out to stand in front of the window. He let both arrows fly almost faster than she could see, then drew his sword, planted a hand on the ledge of the window, and leapt inside.

Bilba took a deep breath, gripped her sword in both hands, and spared a brief second to regret not keeping up with the sword lessons she'd taken on the original journey to recover Erebor.

Then she put a hand on the ledge, and leapt inside after Kili.

***

In the end, her tragic lack of sword skills didn't matter as she ended up doing little to no fighting at all. Most of the orcs had already killed one another, leaving the room a rather disturbing scene of carnage.

Of those remaining, several were injured and neither they, nor the few healthy ones, proved to be any match for Kili. Bilba stayed where she was, just inside the window, and waited for him to be done. Once he was, he nodded toward a set of stairs leading up and she quietly fell in behind him.

There was no sound from upstairs, and the first few rooms they looked in were empty, suggesting the orcs in them had gone downstairs to join the fray, and had subsequently died.

The staircase spiraled, leaving the way ahead of them out of sight most of the time and forcing them to proceed slowly. The last thing they wanted to do was get themselves killed after almost all the orcs were dead.  

A sudden commotion came from overhead, the shrieking of orcs and clash of steel, and they both froze. It ended almost as soon as it started, but Kili kept still, waiting. When nothing happened he carefully started moving again, only to almost immediately freeze once more as the clear clatter of feet on the stairs came from overhead.

They were at a section of stair where the wall of the tower hemmed them in on one side, while the other had crumbled away revealing a look straight down to the bottom level and what was left of the orcs. There was nowhere for them to go without turning their backs on whoever was coming down, which neither of them was foolish enough to do.

Kili was in front of her and, given how he was much larger she was, most of Bilba's view was obstructed by his back. As they waited to see what was coming down, she put a hand lightly on his back, bracing herself and could feel the tension between his shoulder blades.

Suddenly, Kili heaved a sharp breath and, just like that, the muscles in his back eased. Bilba blinked in surprise, and then shoved at his side until he moved enough to let her look past him. Then, sucking in a gasp of her own, she sheathed her sword, squeezed past him and darted forward.

Fili, dirty and dressed only in his trousers, paused and managed an exhausted smile just as she flung herself into his arms. Bilba just barely managed to note the puncture wound in his chest and avoid it as she wrapped both arms around his waist. Fili returned the embrace, one armed as his other hand clutched an ichor stained orc sword.

"Are you all right?" Fili asked, wearily.

Bilba pulled back to glare at him. "Am _I_ all right? Are you serious? You got stabbed by a spider and dragged off by orcs and you're asking if _I'm_ all right?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, are you?"

Bilba gave a scowl of disgust, mostly at herself but a little at him too. She heard the scrape of boots on stone and saw Kili trudging up to meet them.

"And then what happened, O Kili, hero of Middle Earth?" he grumbled as he came to a stop before them. "Oh, well then we all hugged it out in the middle of Mordor when orcs could come kill us at any moment."

"Oh, hush you," Bilba said, cutting off his tongue-in-cheek tirade, and grabbing him to drag him into the hug. Kili didn't resist and if his hug of his brother was a little more intense than warranted from someone who'd been convinced Fili was fine all along, well, she wasn't going to be the one to point it out.

"Are you all right?" he asked as he pulled back.

Fili nodded. "Fine," he said, ignoring Bilba's muttered 'oh, sure, you answer _him_.' "Annoyed," he added as an afterthought. "They took my armor and all my weapons." The way he spoke made it abundantly clear which loss he viewed as the worse one. Fili had a large collection of weapons that had undoubtedly taken years to gather, or make. Losing them had to sting.

"I'm sorry," Bilba said, with genuine feeling as she thought of how she'd feel losing something she cared about. A truly awful thought occurred to her and her eyes widened. "Please tell me one of them didn't belong to your father."

Fili looked startled. "I have a short sword that belonged to him. Kili has a dagger. We left them at home when we set out for Erebor."

"Amad probably transported them to the mountain with her," Kili added. "We didn't want to risk adding them to Smaug's hoard."

Bilba slumped in relief. "Thank Yavanna."

She realized both boys were staring at her as if she'd lost her mind and, with a slightly exasperated sigh, she proceeded to hug them both before making eye contact with each one in turn and saying, with determination, "I'm going to do better. I promise."

Fili looked confused. "Better at what?"

Bilba shook her head and started to answer, only to trail off as her eyes went past Fili. Just behind him, standing a few stairs up, was Lily. The little girl had started appearing almost constantly, just out of the corner of her vision at times, and nearly dominating her eyesight at others.

Adalgrim's newborn daughter was named Lily. Bilba had remembered and wondered if, perhaps, that explained her seeing the little girl everywhere. Guilt, maybe, or a concern for the little girl who was now doomed to grow up without a father? Maybe it was even some sort of offshoot of her worry for Thorin, and the fear her sons might be doomed to the same fate as Lily?

She didn't know but, whatever it was, it was certainly unnerving.

"Bilba?" Kili placed a hand on her shoulder and she jumped in surprise, eyes cutting to his. "Are you all right?"

Bilba looked past Fili again, and this time the stairs were empty. She forced a grin. "I'm fine." She lightly grabbed Fili's arm and tugged on him. "Let's see if we can find your clothes and weapons. If not, we can always see if the orc clothing will fit you."

"I'd rather go naked," Fili growled. He brushed past them and started down the stairs. Bilba watched him a second and then pushed Kili.

"Go talk to him." At his confused look she added, "You know about what."

Kili shook his head. "It's not the time."

Bilba rolled her eyes. "We're in Mordor, Kili. There may not be another time. Go talk, before the next thing shows up to try and kill us."

Kili hesitated, and then gave a sharp nod and jogged down the stairs to catch up with his brother. Bilba lagged, giving them as much privacy as possible. With a short exhale, she faced forward again and determined to focus on Fili and Kili, and her boys waiting for her back in the Shire.

She was going to do better, she decided firmly. For all their sakes.

Just ahead of her, Lily watched her from a broken stair the boys had just stepped over, a blank look in her eyes. Bilba tried her best to ignore the small apparition.

It was hard, but she did try.

 

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giant cliffhanger warning. If you can't handle them all that well I'd suggest waiting a chapter or two before reading. There's only about four chapters left anyway so won't be THAT long of a wait! :)

Bilba had never feared a place before.

Oh, she'd feared creatures that existed in specific places, like that awful spider back in the tunnel, but she'd never feared a _place._ Never walked on land so steeped in evil she feared any minute the very rock would rise up against her. It wasn't just her feeling it either.

Fili and Kili had remained deep in quiet conversation even as they'd found most of Fili's armor and a handful of his weapons. These had been scattered among the orc corpses and Fili's distaste at how they'd been “spoiled" was nearly as bad as his disgust at being forced to wear an orc shirt when they couldn't find his own.

The two had still been talking as they'd left the tower and continued up the path where it started again, on the opposite side of the bowl-shaped area the tower sat in. They had finally quieted but seemed happy, and Kili had certainly looked more at peace than she'd seen from him in a while.

At least until the same sense of ease and fear had begun to affect them as well.

The cold certainly didn't help. With every step they took the temperature seemed to plummet until the chill settled in her very bones. She wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt to ward it off, and clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. Eventually she wound up walking between Fili and Kili, if not outright hanging onto them, trying to take advantage of their higher body temperatures. It helped, some.

The noise began so quietly that, at first, they didn't realize they were even hearing anything. It was simply a low background sound that they subconsciously registered and then discounted, relegating it to the same part of their minds that vaguely heard the wind or the rattle and crunch of rock and dirt beneath their feet.

There was no way to accurately judge the time of day with the eternal gray overhead so they stopped when they felt it might be about noon to have lunch. There weren't a lot of supplies left after the spider and the orcs but they shared out what they had and ate in tense silence. Bilba sat curled on Kili's lap as the cold rock made her shiver so violently she could hardly hold anything. It made it awkward to eat but they managed.

It was probably around then, when they had nothing to do but sit quietly and eat, that Bilba first started to consciously notice the noise.

"What is that?"

"No idea," Fili said. "Probably one more thing that wants to kill us."

"So optimistic," Bilba said dryly.

Fili shrugged. "I think I left my optimism in the orc tower."

"You mean the one I singlehandedly cleaned out?" Kili asked. Bilba elbowed him sharply in the chest and he gave a grunt before adding. "Almost singlehandedly."

They finished quickly, none of them particularly hungry but understanding it was important to keep their energy up. The last thing they wanted was to collapse from hunger at the base of Mount Doom and have nothing left with which to climb.

As they started walking again, Bilba settled in alongside Kili, and tried to ignore the vision of Lily walking on her other side. The small apparition had taken up the position shortly after they'd left the tower She didn't speak, just walked quietly alongside. When they'd eaten she'd stood just behind Fili's left shoulder and stared in accusation at Bilba.

It woke up the fear she'd carried with her since learning she was pregnant. The fear she'd repeat all the mistakes she'd made in the past and her sons would learn them from her.

The fear she'd fail as a mother.

It was ridiculous, she knew that. For one thing, Thorin would be there, as would Fili and Kili and Priscilla and Thorin's sister and any number of people. It wasn't _all_ on her to raise her sons correctly. There was also the fact her sons would be individuals, capable of making their own decisions and choices, their own mistakes.

More than that, however, was the fact she knew better than to start blaming herself for something that hadn't even happened yet, and might never happen. She wasn't with them now but they were safe and she hadn't left because she wanted to. She'd gone to ensure their future, to make sure they had the _time_ to make their own mistakes.

She _hadn't_ failed them.

She also knew she hadn't failed Lily, because her inability to have more children wasn't her fault, and, obviously, because Lily didn't exist.

She couldn't be blamed for failing someone who didn't _exist_.

She _knew_ all that.

So why was guilt and the conviction she'd already failed her sons beginning to slowly eat at her? It'd started shortly after entering Mordor, but she hadn't had much time to dwell on it with all the near-death distractions.

Now, with nothing to do but think, and with Lily as present as if she were another member of the group, she could do nothing _but_ think.

"Orcs," Kili said suddenly and Bilba gasped, a bolt of fear racing through her.

Her gave her a guilty look. "Sorry, I meant, that's what the sound is we're hearing. Orcs."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Bilba said with a sigh. She frowned, listening to the sound that had grown to a low, constant rumble.

With Kili's claim in mind, she focused in on the noise, and felt her heart drop.

The sound wasn't just orcs, it was a _lot_ of orcs. What they had been hearing was the noise of footsteps, voices, armor and weapons, carried by a _massive_ group.

"It's an army," she whispered. "We're going to have to find our way through an orc army." She gave Fili and Kili a wide-eyed look. "What are we going to do?"

"We'll figure something out," Kili said. Bilba saw him glance at his quiver, now filled with a mismatch of arrows taken from the tower. She had a strong feeling it wouldn't matter how many he had, it would never be enough.

Still, she simply swallowed and gave a nod. It was only a few minutes later that they saw the end of the narrow canyon they were walking through. Past it, she could see nothing but sky, suggesting they were still fairly high and would need to make their way down to the valley floor.

As they got closer, Fili indicated for them to all stand pressed against the wall. They crept along, crouched low, until they were finally able to look out and see what they were dealing with.

It was nothing good.

Before them stretched the valley floor. In the distance, Bilba could see the peak of Mount Doom and, past it and partially blocked by its mass, the Black Tower. She could see the barest glimpse of a burning flame at the top of the tower, it sent a beam of light toward the ground, roving around like a giant eye searching for anything out of place in its domain. In any other circumstance the sight would have filled her with dread, but that would be any circumstance not involving a massive army of orcs spread out over the plains before them.  

The path they were on came out on top of a shelf of rock as they'd suspected, the inside of the great stone walls that surrounded Mordor. A narrow, but well-worn path led out and down the shelf toward the valley floor.

There were no tunnels or overhanging shelves of rock, and absolutely no way for them to get down unseen, let alone cross the plain.

"Now what?" Bilba asked.

Fili sighed. "Let's wait for nightfall. Perhaps we can sneak across then."

Bilba highly doubted that but didn't comment. They were all exhausted, the land itself seeming to sap the energy from them. Fili and Kili picked a small, alcove like area along the edge of the path and Bilba took turns curling up with each one. The little warmth she'd generated through movement evaporated as she remained stationary and it wasn't long before she was shivering violently.

None of them felt like speaking.

Bilba, additionally, didn't feel like looking at Lily, who'd taken up position directly across from them and was staring at her with accusatory eyes. Her hands were clenched in fists at her sides and she looked every inch a child in the throes of a violent temper. Bilba wondered if her own mood were affecting the hallucination, or if it had something to do with the land itself, warping everything that entered it.

She shut her eyes to block out the image, and dozed quietly against Fili's chest. She'd like to say her dreams were pleasant but, instead, they were loud and chaotic, bright bursts of color and voices she couldn't quite make out. A few times she could have sworn she heard a female voice, familiar and yet one she'd swear she'd never heard before, trying to shout to be heard over the rest but it never got loud enough for her to make out the words.

She woke with a gasp when Fili nudged her. Her head pounded and a glance to the side showed Lily unmoved from her spot.

"Something's happening," Fili said.

Bilba straightened and saw Kili was several yards away, kneeling to look out past the exit of the path. A few minutes later he straightened and hurried back, crouching down before them.

"The army's moving out," he said, voice a low hiss. "If we wait, they'll probably clear out and we can walk right through."

"We've been doing nothing but waiting," Bilba muttered, struggling to get up. Kili grabbed her hand and pulled her up, then helped brace her as she waited for the blood to rush back into her legs. Once that was done she went with Fili and Kili to watch the army which was, indeed, on its way out. It was heading toward the gates, and Bilba felt her heart turn to stone at the sight.

"Where are they going?" she whispered.

"Nowhere good," Kili replied. "We need to hurry."

They needed to move, but had no choice but to wait for the bulk of the army to travel past them. It reminded Bilba of having to do the same while an orc army marched into Gondor and engaged in a war to end all wars.

She sincerely hoped she wasn't witnessing the same thing happening all over again.

It seemed like forever before the bulk of the army was past and they were looking at the orcs' backs as they marched off into the distance. They could hear nothing from that direction, no sound, nothing to suggest what might be happening.

Fili touched her shoulder and they moved out, keeping low and close to the ground. The last thing they wanted was for an orc to look back and see them. There was also no guarantee every orc had gone, or that there weren't stragglers coming behind.

They reached the valley floor and then there was nothing but a rocky, open plain standing between them and Mount Doom.

Bilba heaved a sigh and set her shoulders. "All right, let's get going."

Fili nodded. He shrugged the pack he'd been wearing off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground. "We'll move faster without it," he said in response to their questioning gazes. "We can get it on the way back."

Bilba nodded and she and Kili added their own items to the pack, anything they didn't absolutely need. Bilba kept Thorin's ring, because the only thing worse than losing it would be trying to enter Mount Doom without it.

Then, there was nothing left to do but go.

It was an odd contrast of emotions. On the one hand, they were in a land filled with so much evil it had bled into the very rock, contaminating it in a way that would poison it for centuries after evil left, possibly for all time. An orc army marched to their left, heading to Yavanna only knew what, while ahead of them lay a tower containing one of the most evil beings to ever set foot on Middle Earth. Bilba felt a mixture of fear, dread, and the strange sense of bizarre failure that seemed to creep in no matter how much she fought to push it away. She also had to contend with the visage of Lily, who kept pace with them, her gaze darkening as if a shadow was slowly falling over her until it was less a little girl and more a wraith dogging their footsteps.

There was all that but, then, on the other hand, it was all just so mind numbingly _boring_.

The only sound was the faint moan of wind rushing through the cracks of the valley floor, the only feel the sharp points of rocks under their feet, and the general ache of weariness in their bodies. There was no conversation, nothing in the landscape worth looking at. At points, the unending _sameness_ almost convinced her that they weren't moving at all but that some strange magic in the land had locked them in place, doomed to ever be walking but never arriving for all eternity.

 

In the end, as insane as it sounded, it was almost a relief to stumble on the orcs.

 

Bilba had long since lost track of how long they'd been walking. Surely, they must be into late afternoon or early evening at the very least, not that one could tell in the ever-present gloom. It did grow dark when it was true night but, aside from that, it was just the same dullness everywhere they looked.

She knew they were making progress only because Mount Doom grew ever closer, albeit slowly, as they walked forward. As it grew large enough to dominate the landscape all three of them fixed their eyes on it, hope starting to take over dread as they saw the end of their long quest finally in sight.

So maybe, just _maybe_ it was forgivable that all three of them missed the way the ground suddenly dipped down into an unexpected hollow. Granted, it wasn't as if it were the first time it had happened, or even the tenth, but _still_...understandable.

The fact that the hollow held no less than ten orcs who'd apparently decided to desert from the army and were in the middle of a crude dice game was nothing short of their typical luck reasserting itself, and making up for the good luck they'd had back in the tower.

After all, what else could possibly account for that many orcs, or any orcs at all, being _silent_?

Things happened very quickly after that.

Ten against three were not particularly good odds, especially when she wasn't at all trained and didn't provide much more than a body with a sword she could barely use. They landed smack in the middle of the game, sending dice and sticks flying.

The orcs took several seconds to process, which was less time than it took for Fili to roar, "Run!"

Bilba's body reacted almost on its own, scrambling to her feet and lurching forward so fast she nearly fell. She regained her footing in time, however, and bolted, eyes fixed on the mountain.

They couldn't fail.

Not this close.

They just _couldn't_.

She could hear the shrieks of the orcs as they finally reacted, followed by the sound of them scrambling up to give chase. The world seemed to shrink, spiraling down to her own gasping breaths as she struggled to drag in enough air to keep moving, the footsteps of Fili and Kili as they thundered just behind her, and the cries of the creatures following them.

Just as she reached the base of the mountain she stopped hearing Fili and Kili behind her. She paused, and spun to see both with their backs to her, and weapons in hand.

"What are you doing?" she cried, panicked.

Fili barely spared her a glance. "It doesn't take all three of us to destroy the ring. Get it done."

Bilba froze. The orcs were nearly upon them, ten of them, fully armed, against two dwarves. Kili sent arrows flying at them, whittling the number down to eight but that was still too many and they would soon be far too close for him to fire any more.

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned at her. "Don't worry, no one is planning to make any heroic sacrifices. Go on, finish what we came for."

Bilba hesitated, and then nodded sharply. She spun on her heel and started clambering up the slope of the mountain. The slope quickly became so steep she was forced to lean forward until she was practically crawling, back arched uncomfortably as she tried to keep her footing. She slipped several times, letting out cries of panic as she slid down, small rocks and grit tearing into her hands and arms before she could catch herself again.

A shout from below her, and she looked over her shoulder to see two orcs veering away from the battle with Fili and Kili and coming up the mountain after her. Cold fear settled in her gut and Bilba felt her eyes widen in horror.

The first one was nearly upon her, that was the shout she'd heard, coming from Fili who was trying to reach her but was being restrained by the orcs trying to kill him.

Bilba scrambled to pull her sword out of its sheath and swiped clumsily at the first orc as it reached her, trying desperately to remember the training she'd received so long ago. Her blade caught the creature across the face, opening a thin rivulet of blood. It shrieked, more in surprise than pain, and reared back instinctively. In any other area it wouldn't have mattered, but on the slope of the mountain it caused the creature to lose its balance and topple. It hit the ground on its back and slid, falling several meters down the mountain side.

A surge of pride flashed through her, and she couldn't help the burst of pride that swelled in her at the tiny, mostly accidental, victory.

Then a shadow fell over her and she remembered there had been _two_ orcs coming after her.

She twisted, some old instinct from her training finally kicking in, gripping the hilt of her sword in both hands and driving the blade forward with as much force as she could muster. She felt the tip hit something that gave under it and she stumbled forward, barely keep her balance at the sudden movement. Something, perhaps the creature's knee, punched her in the side and she grunted at the blow.

Then she pushed back on the sword, regaining her balance and forcing the sword deeper. She looked up from the blade, and it was embedded firmly in the orc's chest, so tight in fact she doubted she'd be able to get it back again. She locked eyes with the creature, and grinned in grim triumph.

The creature, much to her surprise, sneered back. Then the light dimmed from its eyes and it collapsed, wrenching the sword from her grip as it did.

Bilba turned to go, and staggered as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She glanced up at the ledge overhead where she could see an entrance leading into the mountain. Lily stood on the edge, staring down at her, hair blowing in a non-existent wind.

Bilba took another step and her leg felt heavier than it had. Her side was beginning to sting as well, as if she'd been bitten by a particularly large insect and she glanced down with a frown to try and see what had happened.

The hilt of a knife was sticking out from her side.

Bilba blinked at it, and then blinked again, but the image remained unchanged.

 

She'd been stabbed.

 

Well, damn.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning for mother of all cliffhangers ahead. If you can't handle them I suggest holding off another chapter, or two, before reading. You have been warned! :P  
> Also, I've had a few readers comment on a sort of subplot storyline thread that's run through HB from ALL the way back in Part 1 (and technically before as it's in the backstory as well) and how it doesn't seem to go anywhere. To them I said then, "the story isn't over yet!" and now, to them I say, "watch this." ;P :D
> 
> Seriously, though, I'm not kidding about the cliffhanger! Just trust me, I know what I'm doing! You'll see!

Time slowed, and the world faded. Sound grew distorted as if she were hearing it from under water. It felt almost as if she'd just stepped away into some other room and was watching the world from a closed window inside it.

"Bilba!"

Fili's worried shout permeated the fog shrouding her, and Bilba jerked with a sharp gasp. The world snapped back into focus, and the shrieks of enraged orcs were suddenly loud in her ears.

The pain started slowly, a dull throb that soon changed to an intense, burning sensation. Sweat broke out on her skin and she began to shiver. Nausea spread through her and a wave of dizziness washed over her, causing her to sway on her feet. Her hand, pressed to the area around the hilt of the knife, grew slick and she could feel wetness spreading through the fabric of her shirt.

"Bilba!" Fili shouted again, turned halfway back from the orcs currently trying to kill him. Kili stepped in to cover him, but there was no way he could do it all by himself. "Are you all right?"

He hadn't seen what happened, Bilba realized, and the angle she stood at hid the knife from him.

"I'm fine," she managed to call back. Telling him would serve no purpose. Kili needed him, and they had left the supply packs behind, so they didn't have any sort of first aid supplies.

Fili turned back, getting his sword up in time to block an orc trying to decapitate him. Several others were trying to find ways around the brothers and, given the number of orcs versus the number of dwarves, it was only a matter of time before they succeeded.

Another wave of dizziness and she swayed again, gritting her teeth against a groan of pain. If she didn't get a move on, the orcs wouldn't matter.

She turned toward the entrance into the mountain, where Lily was still watching her with cold eyes.

Swallowing down a suddenly dry throat, Bilba stumbled forward. She left the knife in, hoping it would help staunch the flow of blood just a little, but every movement caused it to shift, sending sharp, biting arrows of pain shooting through her.

Her legs felt heavy, and if it weren't for the fact she was already up the worst of the slope, she probably wouldn't have made it.

"You're going to die," Lily said simply as Bilba managed to stagger up onto the ledge leading into the mountain. A wave of heat washed over her from the doorway, but didn't touch the shivers wracking her body.

"Shut up," Bilba said through gritted teeth. "I'm not failing now. Not when I've come so far."

"You _are_ failing now," Lily corrected, falling in alongside her as Bilba staggered toward the entrance. "But you don't have to."

Bilba ignored her and kept moving, knowing she'd never start again if she stopped. She was growing steadily weaker, almost constantly dizzy now with the world going in and out of focus. Her shirt was soaked with blood and she could feel drops of it hitting her feet as she stumbled forward.

She reached the entrance, and the heat nearly knocked her off her feet.

"You're being foolish," Lily said casually from beside her. "None of this has to happen. You could go home right now, back to your sons."

"And then what?" Bilba muttered. "I live with them until Sauron marches on the Shire and burns it to the ground?"

"Not necessarily." Lily tilted her head at an almost unnatural angle. "Why not just keep the ring for yourself? Then you wouldn't have to worry about Sauron, or anyone else."

Bilba froze, and stared at the thing next to her with a slowly dawning horror.

It didn't seem to notice. "Your sons would be safe."

"You're the ring," Bilba said flatly. "You're trying to save yourself."

She should have known, she thought bitterly. She'd been getting used to the mental and physical torture the thing had been trying to inflict on her. It had realized it was losing its effectiveness and had changed tactics, coming at her from an angle she'd never expected.

"I'm trying to save both of us." A shadow passed over the small apparition, and suddenly Fili was standing there, skin gray and a look of exhaustion in his eyes. A second shift and then it was Kili, haggard, worn and haunted. "What about them? Will you leave them to die?"

Bilba's eyes narrowed. "They know what they're doing. They won't die."

The thing laughed, and it was a twisted parody of Kili's laugh. "And if they do?"

"Then they'll have died saving the world," Bilba said through clenched teeth, "and I won't waste that sacrifice."

The thing had already delayed her, made her stop in her tracks, and she mentally cursed at having allowed it. With a supreme effort, she managed to force herself forward, more falling than walking but moving forward all the same.

The area inside the mountain was sweltering. Even the rock under her feet was hot, and she could feel it scorching the soles of her feet. Her feet were made to clamber over rocks and plains, not fire. Ahead of her the rock narrowed to a bridge over a deep chasm. Not the sort of thing she'd normally be okay with but, in this case she supposed getting stabbed and having the ring annoying her were blessings in disguise.

She really had nothing left with which to worry over the lack of handrails, not that it surprised her. If there was one place in all of Middle Earth that there wouldn't be handrails, it'd be the seat of all evil.

"You're being foolish," a familiar baritone said, and she gasped as Thorin was suddenly walking next to her.

Not that it was truly him, as much as she wished it were. This Thorin's skin was gray and his eyes were set so deep they were little more than black holes sunk in his face. A brutal looking wound crossed diagonally across his face, crusted over and flaked with dried blood.

"You precious lover is already dead," the doppelganger said, "You could have saved him, had you simply stopped being stubborn and accepted my power."

"You don't know that he's dead." Bilba wasn't sure why she was bothering talking to the thing, but couldn't seem to stop. The pain from her side and her feet was beginning to fade, which was probably a very bad thing.

"You don't know he's alive," the apparition mocked. It started skipping beside her, which was just _weird_ considering it currently looked like Thorin. "Stop being so stubborn. Take my power, save your friends and world."

Bilba made no comment about the thing’s apparent lack of loyalty toward its master, or what that would mean for her if she were stupid enough to trust it. She'd reached where the rock narrowed and could see over the edge into the abyss. At the very bottom was a roiling, red liquid that, given the nearly painful heat coming off it, was probably not something she wanted to fall into.

A wave of dizziness washed over her and her legs suddenly felt like leaden weights. She sagged, and barely managed to jerk herself to the side in time to avoid falling over the edge. She hit the ground on her knees and one hand, the other clasped around her stomach in an empty belief that it was somehow helping. The knife, slick with her blood, slid out just a bit, and she grimaced at the fresh burst of pain. The amount of blood coating her clothing and dripping on the rock below increased and she sighed in resignation.

She wasn't getting out of this, and if she didn't hurry, it would all be for nothing.

Fake Thorin knelt beside her. "You would choose death, when you have life right in front of you?"

"What you're offering isn't life," Bilba whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut, pain throbbing in her temples. She shoved herself forward, trying to get to her feet. It didn't quite work, her body far too heavy to support itself and she staggered, her knees buckling with almost every step. Her stomach was cramping, and she was grateful she hadn't eaten in a while, and then hadn't had much. She didn't have to go far, just enough to ensure the ring wouldn't catch on a ledge as it fell.

Her knees slammed hard into the rock, and she frowned, wondering when she'd fallen. Thorin was sitting next to her and she blinked at him in confusion, watching as he seemed to fade in and out of focus. "When did you get here?"

"Just now," he said, smiling. "You've come a long way."

"Yes," she agreed tiredly.

"You should lie down," he said. "Rest a while. You're no good to anyone exhausted."

Bilba frowned. That sounded right...but not at the same time. She shut her eyes, trying to think through the thudding pain and cotton that seemed to be fighting for dominance in her head. When she opened them again, she could see her hands braced on rock, fingers curled slightly. Red was spread across the back of her hands and she frowned, trying to figure out why that felt important. Had she spilled a bottle of wine?

No. No that wasn't right. That --

"Lie down," Thorin repeated. "You'll feel better when you wake up."

She was already leaning down so far that her forehead was nearly touching the ground. It took very little effort to roll to her side, and collapse heavily on her back.

She stared up at the darkness overhead, frowning. It was so hot. Had she left the stove on? Maybe that was why she was so tired. She'd been making dinner for...for Adalgrim? Fram?

Oh, if that was true, she needed to get cleaned up before they came over. It wouldn't be proper otherwise and she...she needed...she needed...

Her eyes had closed at some point and it was far, far too difficult to drag them open again. She felt sick, she'd probably pushed herself too hard again.

Absently she began to pat her coat, looking for a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off her brow. Her mother would not...be happy...if she...

Her fingers found the small cloth packet in her coat and tugged it out onto her chest. It unraveled as she pulled, and she felt something small fall out and plop onto her chest. She frowned, brows drawing together a bit in confusion, as her fingers lightly toyed with the object, trying to find out what it was.

A ring, her mind told her hazily.

A ring...it...

 

Bilba's eyes reopened.

 

Not-Thorin stood over her, looking down at her with an empty expression.

Bilba wrapped her hand around the ring, tight enough she could feel it pressing into the skin of her palm. It was hot, the metal burning the skin of her hand, but she knew better than to lessen her grip.

Instead she allowed her head to fall to the side, studying where the edge of the ledge ended just a few inches away from her.

"You can still survive," Not-Thorin intoned, voice flat. "I can give you everything you've wanted, and more."

Bilba managed to move her head back, studying him through rapidly dimming eyes.

And then she smiled, and began to chuckle.

"There's only one thing I want," she said, voice barely a whisper. "More...than anything...in the world..."

"And what's that?" Not-Thorin asked. "Whatever it is. I can give it to you."

"True enough," Bilba murmured. Her pain was all but gone now and a pleasant feeling of warmth and peace was spreading over her. She locked her eyes on the thing that had been plaguing her, the thing she blamed for taking Adalgrim from his family, and for threatening her own. When she spoke again, her voice was so faint, the words were barely audible and Not-Thorin had to lean over her to hear.

 

"I want..." Bilba whispered, "you... _gone."_

And, with that, she slid her arm off her chest. It hit the ground with a thud, and her fingers uncurled. The ring bounced, rolling off her fingers and onto the rock. It clinked against the stone once, twice and, then, with a sharp jump that seemed to freeze it in midair for a brief instance, light sparkling off the metal... it went right over the edge.

 

"NO!" Not-Thorin screamed, and then he was gone, and Bilba was alone for the first time in a very long time.

She sighed and melted against the stone.

It was really too bad, she thought dully.

She'd have liked to have seen how the story ended, if Thorin and the boys made it.

What kind of adults her own sons would have been.

"Sorry," she whispered, to no one and everyone at the same time.

 

Then she allowed her eyes to slowly close...

 

Only to open them again to find herself standing on the pathway outside Bag End.


	35. Chapter 35

"They're rushing the gates!"

Thorin swore, twisting to look over his shoulder in the direction of the shout. He'd been helping one of his injured soldiers to a mat near the makeshift healing tents.

It was one of many, _many_ mats, nearly all of them currently filled with the injured and dying.

The battle was not going well.

The army of orcs currently marching on the mountain made the battle to retake Erebor look like little more than a skirmish. They had crested over Lake-town and Dale like a wave of death, driving the survivors back into the safety of the mountain.

Thorin and his people had held the gate as long as they could but, ultimately, had been forced to call for a retreat.

The battle had degraded into a siege after that.

They were utterly surrounded. Over a hundred dwarves and humans had lost their lives closing the gates, and still more were falling from lucky arrow strikes as they patrolled the upper battlements, trying to keep the orcs off the gates and watching out for siege weapons.

Clearly, they weren't having great success.

Men and dwarves ran toward the gates which, as he watched, began to slide inward. A mass of people were already there, pushing back against the stone while, higher on the battlements, others tried desperately to keep the great chains and wheels that controlled the gates from breaking their locks.

Two dozen of his best archers lined the battlements, sending volley after volley of arrows into the mass of orcs outside.

Thorin's eyes fell on the back of a dark-haired archer near the center and, for a brief instance, he could have sworn it was Kili, tall and strong, fighting to defend his kingdom from invaders.

Then the image was gone, as was his nephew, off to try and save the world while he and his people fought to ensure there was a world left to save.

Thorin crouched, allowing the injured soldier to slide off gently to lay down on the mat. He grimaced as he stood again, joints sore and refusing to obey quickly.

He'd never been one to sit back while his people fought, and died, for him. He was every bit as covered with grime and the black ichor of orc blood as anyone else. He had a nasty gash on the side of his face from a lucky strike, and places he didn't know existed hurt from the armor pinching and chafing. The fingers of his sword hand were almost permanently bent as if still curled around a sword hilt and exhaustion lay on him like a heavy cloak.

He could have sat this out if he wanted. This wasn't the first time the orcs rushed the gates, and it was far from the last. Thorin alone wouldn't make much difference, just as the orcs alone, without a siege weapon, weren't going to break through any time soon.

His thoughts turned to the women and children upstairs, watched over by his sister, and then to Bilba and his nephews, unable to rest no matter how tired they might be.

He found Dwalin in the sea of injured, and saw the other dwarf watching him steadily. Thorin gave a short nod, gritted his teeth and pulled his sword from its sheath.

Then, with Dwalin matching his steps, he headed back into battle.

Under their feet, the ground began to shake.

***

Fili swore, sword flying from his grip as he failed to fully block an orc's blade. Sharp pain ran along the back of his hand, followed by a crimson burst of blood.

There was no time to do anything about it, as the orc he'd been fighting was already coming at him. Fili had no choice but to block with the only thing he had available to him, his arm. He barely had time for a burst of primal, almost childlike, fear before the blade intersected with his raised forearm. Blinding, white hot pain raced through his arm and he actually heard the sound of the bone cracking and breaking beneath the force of the blade.

He jerked away, wrenching his arm free on instinct more than conscious thought, and felt the orc's sword tip bounce and catch on his arm and hand as it fell away. For not the first time, he cursed his decision to not wear something more protective on his hands. Not that it might have mattered, in the end. The armor on his arms had saved him a cut that might have seen him bleeding out, but his arm was still just as broken, and hung just as dead at his side.

His foot twisted beneath him, throwing him off balance on the uneven slope and his heart leapt into his throat as he tried, and failed, to keep his balance. He hit the ground on his back, and immediately threw a leg up, trying to drive off the orc he knew was coming.

The feint succeeded in pushing one orc away, but not the other two that swarmed him, grabbing his arms as he struggled to sit up and slamming him back on the ground, pinning him. The orc he'd kicked sneered at him, and picked up his sword.

Fili grimaced. Fantastic, he was about to get killed by his own damn weapon.

"Fili!" Kili nocked one of his few remaining arrows to the string, aiming at the orc holding the sword, but he, without thinking, turned his profile to the creatures he was fighting to do it. In an instant, they had him disarmed, and were forcing him to his knees, wrenching his arms behind his back until he let out a cry of pain from between clenched teeth.

"Kili," Fili managed to gasp out. He started rolling to his side, scrabbling for a rock, a sword, _something_.

A foot came down in the middle of his chest and forced him onto his back again. With a grunt of pain, Fili grabbed the orc's foot and tried to push it off, but didn't have the leverage.

The orc sneered at him, idly rotating the sword clutched in its hand. "Which of you should we kill first?" he asked. He lowered the sword until the tip was resting against the pulse in Fili's throat. "You?"

One of the orcs holding Kili grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head back while the other placed a slender blade against his throat. "Or him?"

Fili met Kili's eyes, and saw his brother looking back steadily.

Fili swallowed a sigh of resignation, wary of the blade tip resting in the hollow of his throat.

So much for going home.

 _Sorry, Bilba,_ he sent toward the opening in the mountain she'd vanished through.

_We tried._

He shut his eyes, and braced for the sharp bite of the blade.

He released his grip on the orc's foot, because no one wanted that to be the last thing they did, and lowered them to lay flat on the ground at his side, fingers curled into the rock and dirt.

Under his fingers, a low rumble began.

***

Silence fell.

The scrape of the gates as they slid an inch inward, only to be forced back closed again.

The cry of the wounded, and the yells of the men and dwarves as they struggled to keep the mountain safe.

The sharp whistle of arrows as they flew over the gates, and the screech of the orcs gathered outside.

All of it.

Just.

Stopped.

Thorin froze, breath harsh and loud in the sudden silence.

"What--"

His voice trailed off, as he realized it wasn't just the sound that had stopped.

The people had stopped as well. All of them, motionless, muscles in mid-strain, mouths open in voiceless yelling.

All but him, and Dwalin who stood next to him looking every bit as confused.

"Hail Thorin, child of Durin," a strong voice suddenly called out behind him. "How fares your kingdom?"

Thorin turned, and found himself facing a woman. She was tall, and ethereal, but he could not place her as either an elf or human. Her skin appeared to be tinged with the faintest green and her hair was so bright a yellow it nearly hurt to look at. The gown she wore shimmered and sparked as she moved, and flowers adorned both it and her hair.

"My Lady Yavanna." Thorin said, for he'd seen the paintings, and heard the descriptions, and who else could it be with this kind of power over time itself? He sank to one knee, arm draped across his other knee and face down. Beside him, Dwalin copied him, slightly slower as he'd taken an injury to his leg that was hampering his movements.

Her questioned registered and, keeping his head down, he answered, "The day is long, my Lady, and the orcs are many."

"So they are." She approached, and he risked raising his head to look up at her. She gestured regally with one hand and he rose to his feet, Dwalin rising just behind his right shoulder. "My news should bring you joy, then, for the Dark One falls as we speak. Without his will driving them, the ranks of the orcs will descend into disorder and chaos."

Thorin's heart jolted in his chest. "Then Bilba and my nephews succeeded? They made it to Mount Doom?"

Yavanna's eyes took on a distant look and moved past him, as if she were seeing something else. "They have." Her eyes cut back sharply to him. "Do you honor them?"

"Of course," Thorin said. "When they return--"

"They will not," Yavanna cut in simply.

His heart stuttered and, next to him, Dwalin reared back as if physically struck. "What?"

"They have succeeded in their quest," Yavanna said. "They have saved all of Middle Earth, but not for themselves." Her voice took on a sorrowful tone. "You will not see them again."

Thorin sank to his knees, shock racing through him. "No," he whispered. "It cannot be true. They cannot be dead."

"Their deaths have not yet come to pass," Yavanna said simply, "but they come quickly."

"Then, please," Thorin surged to his feet. "Send me to them. Let me try and save them."

Yavanna studied him. "What makes you think I can, or would?"

"Because I don't believe you'd come simply to gloat," Thorin said. He hesitated. "And Bilba has mentioned, on many an occasion, that she's often felt watched over. As if something, or someone, was guiding her in her worst moments of life. I would say this certainly counts as one."

Yavanna's expression gave nothing away. She was still studying him, as if looking for something, though what that something was, Thorin could not say.

Finally, she spoke. "And what of your kingdom, Thorin, called Oakenshield? Who will lead them in your stead?"

"My cousin," Thorin said immediately. Dain had arrived with reinforcements days earlier and was now locked inside the mountain with the rest of them.

Yavanna's eyes narrowed. "There was a time when controlling your mountain, and its treasure, was all that mattered. For that, your One suffered greatly."

Thorin stiffened, and lifted his jaw slightly. "And for that, all I can offer are my deepest apologies, and the vow I will spend my life trying to make up for it."

He could swear Yavanna was looking straight through him, her eyes more piercing than a blade. "And if I were to ask you to choose, between those you love, and your kingdom?"

"I would choose Bilba, and the boys," Thorin said immediately. His heart clenched inside his chest as he spoke the words, but he didn't retract them. Taking back Erebor had always been his dream, but it had been a dream because he'd wanted it for his people. He'd wanted to give them better than what they'd had, raise them up from the muck Smaug's attack had left them in.

Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten that, but he'd found it again.

"If you go, you may not return," Yavanna challenged.

"I accept that," Thorin said calmly.

He'd done what he set out to do.

He'd restored Erebor, ensured the safety of his people.

Yavanna tilted her head. "If you go, you may still fail."

"At least I'll have tried." Behind him, Dwalin made a noise of assent, the first sound he'd made since Yavanna had appeared.

"Middle Earth will be safe if you stay," Yavanna probed. "Your One has saved it."

"Not for me," Thorin insisted. "Not if she, and my nephews, are not in it."

Something like pride, possibly even relief, passed over Yavanna's face, and she smiled. "Well done. Perhaps you are a child of Durin after all."

"Hopefully not the kind that unleashes Balrogs or causes dragons to come attack them," Dwalin muttered, only to break off with a grunt as Thorin sent a foot back to kick him in the leg.

Yavanna looked amused, and then she was gone.

Thorin blinked, panic bursting in his chest. "No," he started, taking a step forward. "Wait."

He blinked again, and suddenly he wasn't in Erebor anymore.

Air like ice cut through his clothes and armor and a dark cloud covered the sky overhead. The ground was shaking under his feet, vibrating as if, somewhere far beneath, something were waking up. Directly ahead of him stood a mountain and, at its base...

"Fili! Kili!" His sword was in his hand and he charged forward without thought or hesitation. Kili was on his knees, Fili pinned a few feet away, and there was utterly no time to give it any more thought than that.

His vision narrowed, zeroing in on nothing but the orcs, watching as they rose and turned to face him in almost slow motion. The one standing over Fili was so taken aback by his, and Dwalin's, approach it completely forgot about Fili, who took the opportunity to kick it soundly in the nether regions.

It barely had time to open its mouth in a howl of pain before Thorin removed its head from its foul shoulders. Beside him, Dwalin had sent Grasper and Keeper flying, beheading the two orcs holding Kili so neatly that they were probably dead a full thirty seconds before they realized it.

It was quick work after that.

"Uncle?" Fili asked in confusion once the orcs were dispatched. "Dwalin? What? How did you?"

The ground rocked beneath their feet suddenly, violently, forcing them all to stagger and fight to keep their balance. Kili, who'd been making a makeshift sling and bandage for Fili's clearly broken arm gritted his teeth and barely budged, determined to help his brother even if the earth suddenly decided to start moving on its own.

"No time." Thorin spared the briefest second to hug them both as hard as he could, followed by Dwalin, before demanding, "where's Bilba?"

Kili nodded up the slope, toward where an entrance into the mountain currently belched black smoke. "There. We were trying to hold the orcs back while she completed her mission."

Thorin nodded, and tightened his grip on his sword hilt. "All right," he said, adjusting his stance automatically as the earth gave a second, even more violent, lurch. "What do you say we go get her then?"

Fili, face lined with pain, and fatigue heavy in his eyes, grinned and pulled his second sword from its sheath over his shoulder, holding it in one hand. Beside him, Kili tossed his now useless bow down and also retrieved his rarely used sword, matching his brother's grin.

Then, together, the four of them turned as one and charged up the mountain slope.

 _Hold on, Bilba,_ Thorin thought toward his One. _We're almost there._


	36. Chapter 36

"Hello Bilba."

The voice came from behind her. Bilba whirled, and memory crashed down on her like a thundering wave.

"My lady, Yavanna," she breathed, immediately dropping to her knees.

The woman standing on the path with her laughed. "Rise, Bilba. There will be no bowing among friends, I think."

The words mirrored the ones she'd spoken the last time they'd met, as did the location. The only thing that was different was the lady herself. Whereas, the last time she'd had green tinged skin and hair the color of the sun, her skin was now a golden brown and her hair had turned into a mix of reds, golds and honey brown.

Autumn, Bilba realized with a start. They were just entering into that season, and the lady reflected it. Even her gown, which had been shimmering and adorned with flowers the last time, was now a muted gold, and adorned with leaves of all colors.

"I can't believe I forgot you," Bilba said in slowly dawning horror, "after all you've done for me."

Her memory, now complete, reached all the way to the awful days after the troll attack, when a quiet voice inside her mind had led her to a pair of Rangers who'd protected her and seen her home.

"It was as I wished," Yavanna said simply. "I could not aid you on your quest, and I feared how reckless you might become if you knew I was watching."

She sounded both amused and exasperated, and Bilba couldn't help but smile a bit in response. "I blame the dwarves for that."

"They could not have brought it out," Yavanna said dryly, "had it not been there to begin with."

Bilba flushed. "Fair enough." Now that she thought about it, she had slapped Thorin the first time she'd met him, hadn't see? Granted, the rest of the dwarves had been driving her to distraction, but still...

She frowned, turning her attention back to the matter at hand. "Was that you then, just after the spider? The voice I heard?"

"Was it?" Yavanna asked innocently, tilting her head slightly as if trying to remember. "It seems I cannot recall." She refocused on Bilba, her eyes glittering as if someone had set the very stars into them. "Walk with me, dear one, for we have much to discuss and little time with which to do it."

She turned without waiting for a response, and started off down the path. Bilba scrambled to keep up with her noting, as she did, that she no longer felt any pain or fatigue from her journey, or the rather serious stab wound. An awful suspicion began to take root in her mind, but she stubbornly refused to look at it for the moment.

Instead she turned her eyes on Bag End as she rushed past, where it stood like a silent sentinel on the hill. When she'd been here last time, wherever here was, there had been noise and voices coming from inside as if a party were being thrown. She'd recognized a few of the voices, though it had been years upon years since she'd heard them.

"Where have they all gone?" she asked, as she caught up to Yavanna, falling in alongside the taller figure.

Yavanna didn't answer. Bilba hesitated, and then asked in a small voice, "Am I dead?"

There was still no answer, so she took the hint and stayed quiet, though a small, petulant part of her wondered at the refusal to answer questions right after insisting they had little time.

She wasn't Thorin, however, and knew better than to voice such things, so instead she simply looked around as they walked. There was a light breeze, she noted, rustling the tips of the grass in the fields and meadows, but aside from that there was nothing. No sound of birds, no buzzing of insects, not even the babble of the Brandywine as it made its way merrily through the midst of Hobbiton.

It was utterly silent.

"My father pointed you out to me," Yavanna said, breaking the silence suddenly. "on the day you were born."

Bilba looked up sharply, startled. "Your father?" Her father as in Eru, the creator of all? _That_ father? "Why would he do that?"

"He said you and I had something in common," Yavanna said, "and perhaps I might be interested in watching how your story turned out." There was no mistaking the outright amusement in her voice as she added. "If I recall correctly, his exact words might have been 'you of all people should know, she'll need all the help she can get'."

"Because he knew what my journey would be," Bilba said softly. "What would happen to my parents, and the ring later."

"There are many who take on such hardships," Yavanna replied, "those who have come long before, and those who will come after. My father watches over them all." She glanced down at Bilba. "You were pointed out to me for a different reason."

"A different reason?" Bilba asked in confusion. "What other possible reason could there be?"

They crested a hill she didn't remember being in Hobbiton, and suddenly the landscape around her shifted, as if she'd stepped from one room to the next. Grass and dirt vanished to be replaced by craggy rock, and mountains towered in the distance. The sun overhead vanished behind clouds and, around them, came the smell of smoke and the clang of iron meeting iron. The air was colder here, and Bilba shivered as the breeze cut through her clothing.

A figure appeared from behind a mountain of rock, carrying a massive hammer over one shoulder. He held what looked like red-hot metal under the other arm, but the heat didn't appear to be affecting him.

As the figure neared, she could see he was shirtless, his chest covered in a sheen of sweat. He strode to where a large anvil was set up and dropped his load next to it. As he did, Bilba finally got a good look at him, and promptly felt her heart plummet.

"Thorin." she whispered. "Oh, no, not both of us. Please, not both."

She didn't want her sons to be orphans. It would be bad enough for them to lose one parent, but both wasn't something she wished on anyone, let alone her own children.

Yavanna knelt on one knee next to her. "Look closer."

Bilba gave her a nervous look, wringing her hands with anxiety. Yavanna simply stared back, face deeply serene. Bilba forced herself to take a deep breath, struggling to calm her nerves, and obeyed.

It took a few seconds but slowly things about the figure began to trigger in her mind. He was taller for one thing; a fact she hadn't immediately noticed due to how far away he was. His hair was somewhat longer too, she noted, and his beard was fuller. Even the way his body moved, and how he held himself, she slowly realized, was _close_ to Thorin, but not quite.

"That--" Bilba said slowly. "That's not Thorin."

She looked at Yavanna, and found the other woman smiling in pride at her.

"Who is it then?" Bilba asked in confusion. She ran the Valar she knew of through her mind, and felt her eyes widen. "Mahal?"

"My husband created the dwarves," Yavanna said by way of explanation. "Amongst the first, he made one in his own image." Her eyes took on a look of amused affection and her voice dropped to a whisper. "He's a bit vain."

"I can hear you, woman." Mahal's voice rumbled across the rocky area, and sounded so exactly like Thorin in tone and word that Bilba had to bite back a giggle.

Yavanna smiled, and stood. "Every so often, another dwarf like this first one is born into the race. They share my husband's strengths, and his weaknesses."

At this she looked down at Bilba and mouthed the word, "Stubborn," which nearly caused Bilba to laugh out loud again.

"These dwarves also typically carry a heavy destiny," Yavanna continued, a somber note coming into her voice as she looked out into the distance. "One that some have shouldered with success, and others have not."

"Thorin succeeded," Bilba said, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. "He reclaimed Erebor, and held it against the orcs."

"And he holds it still," Yavanna said, eyes turned toward Mahal. "He is a child my husband can be proud of." She looked down at Bilba. "Still, the burden is not an easy one, not for him, and not for the one destined to be by his side. I have long since held an interest for the Ones of the dwarves made in my husband's image." She smiled down at Bilba again. "You could say I feel we are kindred spirits."

"I'm honored you would think so," Bilba whispered. It was hard to wrap her mind around it. It had been hard enough to wrap her mind around the notion of her, Bilba Baggins of Bag End, being in love with the king of the dwarves, much less bearing his children, but this? To think she'd been _destined_ for such a role? Her?

So much for ever believing she could be respectable. As it turned out, she'd been born unusual. Once she might have been horrified, but now?

Now, she felt perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing.

Her mind latched onto something Yavanna said and she forced herself to smile, as a flood of relief washed through her. "He holds it still? Thorin's alive, then?"

"He is." Yavanna said. "And by destroying the ring, you have ensured he will win the day, as will all of Middle Earth."

"Good," Bilba breathed out. "Then at least he'll still be there for Frerin and Ash."

"Do you not wish to be?" Yavanna asked, and Bilba looked up at her sharply.

"Of course I do!" she insisted. "But it's not as if I can just snap my fingers and send myself back, now can I?"

The words came out much sharper than she'd intended, and she tensed, half-expecting Yavanna to grow angry. This was all Thorin's fault, she'd never have been the sort to yell at one of the Valar before meeting him.

"No," Yavanna said, calm as ever. "You cannot."

The world around them seemed to blur, and then they were back in front of Bag End, and the landscape was just as empty and silent as ever.

Or at least she thought it was.

After a few minutes, Bilba became dimly aware of the chatter of voices, but they were distant, and coming from the other side of the hill, possibly from down in the party field.

"Who is that?" she asked.

"All the ones you have ever lost," Yavanna said. "You can go to them, if you wish."

Bilba blinked. Everyone she'd ever lost? Did that mean her parents? Bungo? Adalgrim? She could see them again? Hold them again?

An almost nervous exhilaration rose in her at the thought of such a long separation finally being over and she took a step forward, only to pause as something in Yavanna's voice caught her.

"If I wish," she repeated. "And what happens if I choose to go to them?"

"Then that is where you will stay," Yavanna replied simply.

Bilba nodded, clasping her hands together in front of her tightly. "And if I choose to not go?"

Yavanna studied her for a moment, before saying, "then your journey may continue, if that is what you wish."

"You mean I can go back?" Bilba frowned. "But how? I kind of got stabbed, and you said you can't get involved..." She trailed off, looking up at the other woman helplessly.

"You are the ringbearer," Yavanna replied, "and have saved all of Middle Earth. In return, my father has decreed you are to be rewarded. Traditionally, we might offer you passage to the Undying Lands," here she gave Bilba a sideways look, "but I have a feeling it might not be what you wish."

"No," Bilba replied without hesitation. She looked in the direction of the hill, and the voices drifting over it. "I do want to see them," she said, "but I want to see my sons grow up more."

"Will you though?" Yavanna asked curiously. "The lifespan of a hobbit is so much shorter than that of a dwarf, even of one who is only half-dwarf."

Bilba flinched. Her vision grew watery, and her voice wavered. "I'd still choose all the time I can have with them." She forced a grin as she tore her eyes away from the hill to look at Yavanna once more. "Even if it's just for a little while."

"Perhaps," Yavanna replied. "That is your choice then? You choose not to see the ones you have lost?"

"Not just yet," Bilba said. "Someday, but right now I just want to go home."

"And where is home?" Yavanna asked. "For the Shire has rejected you."

Bilba gave a slightly choked laugh. "I remember." She took a deep breath, and her voice grew firmer. "Home is wherever my family is." Her sons, Thorin, Fili and Kili. The thought of those two brought a pang of fear to her heart. They had been beset on all sides by orcs the last she'd seen and even then could be --

No. She shook her head as if she could physically dislodge the thought from her mind. She had to believe they were all right. Yavanna said she'd succeeded. If that were true, then it meant Sauron was defeated and if _that_ were true, then surely it must have caused chaos and disorder amongst his followers? Fili and Kili were the best there were. If given an opening, they would take it, she knew that.

"I just want to go home," she repeated. "Please."

Yavanna nodded, and Bilba could swear she saw approval in the other woman's eyes.

"As you wish." She said.

A wave of dizziness washed over Bilba, and she swayed, shutting her eyes for a brief moment.

When she reopened them, she was standing on the edge of the ledge overlooking the river of red down below.

Heat washed over her, and the ground shook beneath her feet.

Bilba blinked in surprise, and then gasped and looked down, hands automatically going to her side. She felt wetness, and a tear in her shirt and, through that...nothing.

She felt nothing at all.

No pain, no jagged, torn skin under her fingers, nothing.

A well of laughter bubbled up from her gut which, given the setting, might be premature but, even so...

Even so...

Her mind vaguely noted that something else was off aside from the fact she was no longer bleeding out. She felt...strange, different somehow.

She wasn't given any time to think on it, however, as, beneath her feet, the ground suddenly shook violently. Bilba stumbled back, and her foot went right over the edge.

She shrieked, falling back and frantically reached out to try and grasp something, anything to stop her fall.

Apparently, she wasn't yet out of miracles, as her fingers caught on a sharp edge of rock just beneath the ledge, and held. Her body slammed into stone and she grunted in pain.

"Damn it," she grumbled, "this wouldn't have happened if someone had thought to install railings!"

She struggled to find a foothold, feet scrabbling against the rock. She wasn't doing this, she told herself firmly. She was not dying, _again_. Not in the first five minutes after she'd come back.

That would just be pathetic.

She pulled, trying to get back up to where the edge of the ledge taunted her less than a foot away, and frowned as it occurred to her that her arms were holding her body weight a lot easier than she'd have thought they would. Not that she was complaining, of course. She wasn't an _idiot_.

The rock shuddered again and, just like that, she was loose, as if the mountain itself had shaken her off. Bastard.

She barely had a chance to scream, and then she was falling...

And then she wasn't.

Her body jerked to a rough stop and suddenly there was a hand wrapped like iron around her wrist, holding her in place with ease.

Bilba looked up, and Thorin grinned down at her from where he was stretched out on his stomach and leaning over the edge. On either side of him stood Fili and Kili, haggard but looking none the worse for wear.

"Did you miss me?" Thorin quipped, and Bilba spared the time to roll her eyes in exasperation, even as she smiled back up at him.

"You're late." She reached up and hooked her free hand into the sleeve of his shirt, anchoring herself. "Now pull me up, your Majesty. That's an order."

He laughed. "As you command."

He then proceeded to do exactly that.

 

 

 


End file.
